Dr Cullen and the Hypochondriac
by peachylicious
Summary: Bella, an obvious hypochondriac, believes she has a brain tumor and will die within a couple years. Edward, a psychologist, is determined to cure his new patient and help her achieve all of dreams before she “perishes”. AH. OOC. Future lemons.
1. The Deal

**Dr. Cullen and the Hypochondriac**

**Disclaimer: **The characters are not mine. The ridiculous plot, however, is.

**Author's Note: **If you're confused about why this story was originally deleted, read my profile. The information is right there.

**Chapter One - The Deal**

**BELLA POV**

"I have a brain tumor," I deadpanned

The paper crinkled beneath me as I wiggled around. The room was brightly lit and everything was white, sterile. Doctor Banner had his latex gloved hand wrapped around my wrist, two fingers pressed against my pulse.

"You don't have a brain tumor," he replied in his typical monotone voice.

"I do," I insisted. "Look at the eyes, doc. People always say my pupils are huge. Dilated eyes are a symptom of a brain tumor. I know this stuff. I checked online."

He glanced up at my eyes for a split second. "Your eyes appear to be fine."

Damn doctor didn't even look close enough. He was no help. I needed to move this up a notch. "I'm requesting a CT or MRI scan."

He shook his head and sighed as he removed his latex covered hand away from my wrist. "You don't need it, Bella."

"Yeah huh." I nodded my head vehemently. "How else are you going to determine where the little sucker is hiding up in my head?"

He scribbled something down on the sheet of white paper attached to the clipboard. "You don't have a brain tumor."

"You don't know that." I folded my arms across my chest and held my head high.

"Bella," he said as he placed the clipboard on top of the counter near the sink. He grabbed the back of his black chair and wheeled it over towards me before he plopped down. "I've been your doctor for fours years now. You're perfectly healthy," he assured, leaning forward with his forehead wrinkled and his eyes determined.

"There is nothing wrong with you." He gave me a stern look before leaning back in the chair. "At least in the physical aspect," he added underneath his breath.

I squinted my eyes at him. I heard that. Jerk. "CT scan. Now," I demanded.

He shook his head. "Insurance won't cover it."

"I have money," I replied hurriedly. Although I really didn't. At least not much.

He exhaled heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose as he snapped his eyes shut. "You're not getting a CT scan."

******

Not long afterwards, Doctor Banner entered the office to discuss my CT results. I swallowed thickly as he sat down on the other side of the desk. Our eyes locked, he leaned forward and clasped his hands together.

"Bella," he said slowly.

"How long do I have?" I whispered.

"You don't have a brain tumor."

I blinked.

"Everything is normal," he went on.

I blinked again.

"Bella, are you listening to me?"

"I-I don't understand," I stuttered, "did you mix up the results with another patient?"

He sighed in annoyance. "Isabella Swan, listen to me carefully. _You_ do _not_ have a brain tumor."

"What if it's just really small?" I protested in a whiny voice. "Like microscopic and you just can't see it?"

He groaned and rubbed his palms over his face.

"Maybe the equipment was faulty! I really think we need to re-do the CT scan!" I pushed back my chair and stood up. "There's something wrong with me and I need you to fix it!"

With his palms still smashed against his face, his eyes shot up and he stared at me. "There's someone I think you should see."

"A brain tumor specialist?" I asked, hopeful.

He removed his beefy hands away from his face and pulled out a thin white card from a drawer in his desk. "This is Dr. Cullen's business card. I'll call and make an appointment for you sometime later this week."

He handed me the card and my eyes scanned over it. "How is a psychologist going to cure my tumor?"

"There isn't a tumor in there." He stood up and stuffed his hands in his pocket. "Just a defect," he muttered quietly.

I glared at him. "When I die, I'll be back saying 'I told you so'."

He shook his head. "I'll call you the moment I confirm the appointment." He paused for a moment. "I will do everything in my power to make it as soon as possible."

"I have insomnia," I blurted, not wanting to be dismissed quite yet.

"No, you don't. You sleep eight hours every night. Sometimes more."

He walked around his desk and motioned for me to follow him towards the door.

"What about my vampire bite?!" I screeched.

He raised an eyebrow. "Vampire bite?"

"Look!" I tilted my head to the side so he could see the two puncture wounds. "See!"

He stepped closer to them and touched the marks. "That's not a vampire bite. There is no such thing as vampires. It looks like a spider bite."

My eyes widened and I gasped. "Spider?! What if it was poisonous?! We need to get it checked out immediately!"

He opened the door and turned to face me. "I'll call you after I speak with Dr. Cullen."

I huffed and stormed out of the office like a two year old on the verge of a tantrum. Stupid doctors. _What do they know?_

******

A couple days later, I entered a building and took the elevator up to the fourth floor, where Dr. Cullen's office was located. Maybe he could convince my doctor that there was something wrong with me.

I ended up sitting in the waiting room for a good thirty minutes before a receptionist said I could see Dr. Cullen. I spent that time huddled up in my own personal shell. My shoulders were hunched, my purse was on top of my lap as I grasped the straps. There was a plump woman with curly red chair sitting two seats down from me. And a rail thin elderly male sat to the other side of me, also two seats down. I was constantly at a distance from people. I frowned.

I cleared my throat as I gingerly stood up and walked down the hall to the door which had name plate 'Dr. Edward Cullen' on it.

I knocked on the door and heard a gentle, "Come in."

I opened the door and stepped inside. It was a decent sized office. There was a two-seater midnight blue sofa against the west side of the room. A matching plush chair was off to the side of the couch, slanted towards the sofa. A black and maroon afghan with squiggly patterns was draped over the back of the chair.

A large window was covered by maroon drapes that were pulled opened, allowing the sunshine to filter through the room. The room smelled like autumn. Pumpkins and cinnamons. That was when I noticed the lit candle of top of one of the low bookshelves. There was another large bookshelf, books filled every inch.

To the east side of the room, sat a desk. I did a double take at the young man sitting behind the desk, typing something on his silver laptop.

"Aren't you a little young to be a psychologist?" I greeted before I could even shut the door.

He looked up at me with a surprised expression. His bright green eyes met mine and his hair was an unusual shade of copper. The sunlight brought out the red tones in his hair. "I assure you I have all of the qualifications." He stood up and extended his hand for me to shake. "I'm Dr. Edward Cullen."

I accepted it and shook his hand. "Bella Swan," I said while studying his face.

Weren't psychologists supposed to be old, balding and plump? He was none of those things. He had a boyish face and was too pretty to be a doctor. He didn't look a day over twenty-five. He couldn't possibly have the experience to diagnosis me properly.

He gestured to the blue couch as he walked around to stand in front of the desk. I sat down tentatively and kept my eyes on Doogie Howser. He stepped forward and sat down in the chair, the one near the sofa, and held a pad of paper in his hands. He reached over to the desk and grasped a pair of glasses before sliding them on. Now he just looked like a boy pretending to be a grown up.

"Do you know why you're here today, Miss Swan?" he began

I shrugged a shoulder casually and studied my fingernails. "Doctor Banner wanted me to see you."

He nodded his head once. "Did he tell you why?"

"He says there's nothing wrong with me physically, so it has to be a mental issue," I replied nonchalantly.

"And what do you think about that?"

"I think he's wrong. I know I have a terminal illness."

He jotted down something on his pad and pressed his lips together in a tight line. I sighed exasperatedly. I didn't have time for this. He was probably doodling a cartoon character.

He proceeded to ask questions about my family history and all that jazz. I informed him that Renee, my mother, passed away from cancer when I was four years old. That right there just showed how susceptible I was to developing a terminal illness. Charlie, my father, was in the military, and we moved around constantly. He was never around. He either worked 16 hours a day when I lived with him, or he was shipped somewhere overseas…like Saudi Arabia, for example. Places I couldn't go. My Aunt Victoria and Uncle James looked after me when Charlie couldn't bring me with him. They didn't exactly do a great job with that. But that wasn't something I wanted to discuss. So I quickly moved on. Charlie died two years ago. The day before my twentieth birthday.

After the tenth time he asked 'how do you feel about so and so', I exhaled deeply and interrupted him. "How do _you_ feel about asking people how they feel? Seriously, that's really annoying. I'm not five years old. You don't have to drag out an emotions chart and ask me to pick out which one I can relate to the most."

He looked at me for a couple seconds before writing something down.

I clapped a hand on my thigh loudly. "So, what's the prognosis?"

"Honestly?" He lowered his pad and looked me over. "I think it's nothing more than hypochondriasis."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I am not a hypochondriac."

He raised his eyebrows and wrote something else down. I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes left of our so called session. Blah. Why wait? He was a quack. I was done with this. I stood up as he eyed me curiously.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Cullen," I said curtly. "I'm sure you have other patients to misdiagnosis, so if you don't mind, I'm gonna go now."

He sat the pad of paper down, along with the pen and stood up. I quickly glanced at the pad that proved that he was actually writing and not drawing. "Why do you want to have cancer, Miss Swan?"

I stood by the door, looked at him and twisted the doorknob. "Because I need a reason to want to live."

In the blink of an eye, he strode over to me and pressed his hand tightly against the door so I couldn't open it.

"Do you mind?" I asked.

"Care to elaborate?" He towered over me. "Have you been having any suicidal thoughts?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "No." To both.

I tried to open the door once again but he wouldn't remove his hand. "Sit down, please."

I sucked in my cheeks and squinted up at him. "I have places to be."

"No, you don't," he called my bluff. "Please sit down until your session is over."

I inhaled deeply before gritting my teeth and moving towards the sofa. He walked back to his chair and scooted it closer to the sofa. _Ever hear of personal space, buddy?_

"I'm not suicidal," I stated confidently. "I don't _want_ to die."

"Would you mind telling why it is that you feel as though you have a brain tumor?" he asked in a professional, emotionless voice.

I crossed my legs and folded my hands together. "I know you think I like sound a raging lunatic. Look, it's not as insane as it sounds. When you have an illness, you have an excuse to do extreme things, such as jumping out of a plane. When people ask, 'why are you so crazy?' you can say that you have an incurable disease and they just nod and understand."

He scratched his head and looked puzzled. "So, you want to excuse your desire for sky diving by having cancer?"

I leaned back and smiled mockingly. "No."

"I'm sorry, Miss Swan, but I'm having a difficult time following you."

"It's complicated." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Enlighten me."

I released an exaggerated sigh. "I have a list of things I want to accomplish before I die. The problem is, if I'm not dying, I don't feel the desire to actually do them. There's no rush. If there's no rush, time will pass, I'll age and I'll never get it done. It'll always just be a list. When I said I want a reason to live, I didn't mean that so literally. I just meant that I want a reason to _do something_ with my life, so it _feels_ like I'm living."

He pursed his lips and looked deep in thought. "Why don't you push yourself to complete one task at a time? I'm still not understanding why you need to be dying in order to want to live."

"Because when you're told you have months or just a couple years left to live, you take advantage of that time. Every little thing that most people take for granted seems monumental all of a sudden. I want to feel that."

He reached over, grabbed his pad of paper and scribbled something down. "You choose the way you feel about life, Isabella."

"Bella," I corrected.

"Bella," he continued writing, "I say, if you want to jump out of an airplane with a parachute on your back, just do it."

I clinked my tongue to the roof of my mouth and tilted my head. "What happens if there's an accident and I die?"

He blinked and confusion swept over his features. I loved confusing doctors. It made my week more enjoyable.

"The reason I'd be comfortable doing something so risky is because I know that no matter what, my time is coming to an end. It won't matter if I die right then. But if I'm healthy and have my whole life in front of me…I don't want to jeopardize that."

He opened his mouth to speak but a receptionist buzzed in.

"Dr. Cullen, Michael Newton is here for his twelve o'clock appointment."

Dr. Cullen stood up and pressed a button. "Thank you, Tanya. Send him in after Isabella leaves."

"Bella," I mumbled to myself.

Dr. Cullen turned his attention back to me. "Miss Swan, I'd like to continue seeing you, if that's alright with you?"

I huffed. "Can't you just tell Dr. Banner that there's something growing in my noggin?"

He ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Miss Swan-"

"Bell-la," I repeated for the millionth time.

"Bella," he said, and I could've sworn that a bit of irritation seeped into his voice.

I smirked, I quite enjoyed watching professional doctors get worked up over something so insignificant. I mean, here they are, they went to graduate school and obtained a PhD specifically for their current occupation, knowing full well they'd have to deal with a bunch of crazies, yet it still managed to get under their skin from time to time.

"I'm not supposed to do this, but…" he paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts. "I'll make you a deal. You set up twenty additional sessions with me, twice a week, and by the time we're finished, if you still believe you have a brain tumor, I will take you to the hospital myself and help you convince Dr. Banner for another CT scan."

I looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "That's ten consecutive weeks," I stated.

He nodded his head once.

Well, I knew Dr. Banner wouldn't allow me to get another CT scan done. And if I went to anyone else, they'd most likely throw me in the loony bin. That was not the way I intended to spend the last few months of my life. But if someone like Dr. Cullen went in to see Dr. Banner, he'd definitely allow at least one more scan. Dr. Cullen only wanted ten weeks with me, and I already knew that there was absolutely no way he'd convince me that there wasn't something deadly latching onto my brain. I had a bunch of symptoms. I knew I had a brain tumor.

I tapped my finger against my bottom lip. "Okay," I agreed.

He smiled crookedly, which only made him appear younger and reminded me that the kid wasn't qualified to diagnosis me.

I stumbled over to the door and reached out to open it, but Dr. Cullen somehow got there first and opened it for me. He smiled down at me and I nearly smiled back, but then I realized what I was doing to and shook my head. _No. No smiles for Dr. Cullen._ The smiles would be reserved for when he lives up to his end of the deal.

I stepped out of the room, and someone, I assumed his next patient, had his hands wrung together before he brushed past me and dashed into Dr. Cullen's office. _He's mighty eager. Wonder what kind of drugs Dr. Cullen gives him._

"Four minutes and thirty-eight seconds," muttered the blonde patient. "That's how long it took you to open the door. I was afraid you were dead. It doesn't take a healthy person four minutes and thirty-eight seconds to open a door. Are you having spasms, Dr. Cullen?"

I heard a distinct sigh from Dr. Cullen before he shut the door behind his patient. I snickered. _You wanted this profession, buddy._ I wasn't exactly going to make it much easier on him. All I needed was for the next ten weeks to fly by.

I made the appointments with one of the receptionists. I was scheduled to come in every Monday and Thursday at 11 am.

Once I left the office, I headed to the homeless shelter, where I had been staying since my roommate, Jessica, kicked me out after I interrupted her sexcapades with the cute guy who lived down the hall. I barged into the room one night, hyperventilating, and tried to explain to her that the tumor was freaking me out because I had read an online article about a boy who lost his mobility due to a brain tumor. She kept yelling at me to get out of the room but I couldn't budge.

I came home the next day to see my luggage sitting near the door. Jessica said I had to leave. That wasn't exactly legal since it was my apartment too, but she threatened to have me committed, and we both knew there was a strong possibility that'd happen. So I didn't fight her on it. I didn't tell anyone I was thrown out. Not Dr. Banner, definitely not Dr. Cullen, and certainly not my employer. I just had to save up enough money to get a new place. It'd happen eventually.

At least I still had Jake. That was the important thing. Wherever I'd go, Jake would always be with me.

I entered the shelter and sauntered over to Angela, one of the workers. "Hi, Angela," I greeted.

She was sitting behind the station in the lobby, reading something on the computer screen before turning to face me. "Hey there, Bella," she smiled. "How'd it go?"

I shrugged a shoulder. "Another quack." I glanced around the room to search for Jake. I had left him with her.

"Well, at least that's over with, huh?"

I looked back at her. "Not exactly. Have go in for twenty more sessions."

She tilted her head in confusion.

"We made a 'deal'." I used finger quotations when I said deal. "So, where's my baby?"

She nodded her head towards one of the hallways. "Playing with one of the kids. Her name is Claire."

I leaned back slightly and slapped the counter once before spinning around and trudging down the corridor to see my Jakey.

I entered the playroom and spotted him immediately. The little girl was stroking Jake's head and giggling as he squirmed in her arms.

"Hi." I smiled at the girl.

She turned her head to look at me. "Hi," she replied shyly.

"He's a cutie, isn't he?" I asked, referring to Jake.

She nodded her head. "Is he yours?"

"Yep. That's my little ferret."

She held him up towards me. "Do you want him back?"

I waved a head. "Nah. I have to get ready for work, anyway. Why don't you look after him for me?"

She smiled widely. "Kay."

I returned the smile before grabbing my bag so I could change into my uniform. Just ten more weeks and I'd get the new CT scan revealing my hidden tumor, and I'd gain the motivation to get out of here.


	2. Week One

The beginning of this story takes place in mid-October 2008.

**Chapter Two - Week One**

_Monday, session one_

"So," I said as I snuggled against the corner on the blue sofa, "are you going recommend I get prescribed medication?"

My first official session out of the twenty session agreement had begun minutes ago. The weekend flew by and before I knew it, it was time to see Dr. Cullen again.

"Do you think you need it?" he asked while keeping his eyes on my face, most likely studying my facial movements. He could never just answer a question, he had to throw it back at me.

I shrugged my shoulders. "What's the point of seeing a psychologist if I don't get to pop a couple pills that make me feel all warm and fuzzy?"

"Have you ever experimented with drugs before, Bella?" he asked emotionlessly.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, all the time," I said, my voice was laced with sarcasm. "Heroin. Crack. Cocaine." I paused for a moment. "What's the difference between crack and cocaine? Are they the same thing? 'Cause people always say crack/cocaine, I rarely hear them say crack _and_ cocaine."

"Shouldn't you know since you've tried it?"

_Oh Geez._ "Are all psychologists unable to detect sarcasm?"

"Do you know why you resort to sarcasm instead of answering a question seriously?" he asked in the same emotionless tone.

I stared blankly at him as I ran my tongue over the back of my teeth. "You're the wise one with all of the answers. Why don't you tell me?"

He pushed his glasses down to the tip of his nose and sat up straighter. _Oh, here it comes. Psychobabble bullshit. Woohoo. Perk your ears, Bella._

"Sarcasm," he began, "could be a mechanism to shield insecurities and vulnerability, and used to deflect the topic."

I rolled my head back against the cushions on the couch.. "Yep. That must be it. I was vulnerable about my non-existent drug use so I used sarcasm. Bravo, Dr. Cullen. I hope you win best psychologist of the year."

"Sarcasm could also be used as humor with no harm intended," he continued, unaffected by my jab. "Other times, it is used as an insult to belittle the recipient in order to make oneself feel superior," he finished with a pointed glance.

Ah, so I fell into the last category. "Do I belittle you, Dr. Cullen?" I asked with a smidge of a smirk playing on my lips.

He grinned, looking as if he just proved his point.

The rest of the hour passed by with multiple sighs, eye rolls and sarcastic retorts from me. He continued to appear unwounded by my remarks and my obvious resentment that I had to have these sessions. His tone remained emotionless, and it was clear he put no personal thoughts or feelings into our session. Over all, he was completely professional.

When noon rolled around, I jumped off of the sofa and prepared to scoot on out of there. Though I kind of wanted to wait a minute or two to see if that patient I saw the last time would be waiting to come in. He made me smile all day, just knowing that Dr. Cullen was most likely wanting to blow his brains out for the hour spent with him.

"Just a moment, Bella," Dr. Cullen said as he stood up and walked behind his desk. "I have something for you."

I sighed and folded my arms across my chest as I watched him dig through a drawer and pull out a clear plastic container of orange breath mints. I arched an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to signify something? That I have a dirty mouth and it needs to be cleaned? Or I need to be refreshed or something?"

He glanced at me, one side of his lips tugged upward, though he tried his hardest to hide it.

He pulled out an empty prescription bottle, opened the cap and dumped the mints into the bottle before replacing the cap. "I recommend taking one after each main meal with a glass of water. If you exceed 3 pills a day, consult me immediately."

I bit my bottom lip to keep myself from smiling. So the doc _did_ have a sense of humor after all.

I was disappointed to discover that there was a different patient waiting for him. This one wasn't fidgety or in a hurry or anything. He looked normal. I frowned. I didn't want Dr. Cullen to have a good session after me. My plan of making him regret that he tricked me into this stupid thing would be ruined.

I rushed back to the shelter so I could change into my work clothes, and then I headed to the nursing home for people with Alzheimer's, which was where I worked as a nurses aid from 1 pm - 9 pm.

******

I spent part of my shift helping one of the ladies carve pumpkins and place them outside on the porch. We stuck candles inside of them so they would glow. But I spent most of the time working, that was code for I did absolutely nothing unless I was needed.

One of the residents complimented me on my eyes. I smiled at him sweetly and he took that as encouragement to ask to take me out on a date. I could barely contain my laughter when I accepted. He was a sweet old man. He kept grinning and winking at me from across the room. Well, at least there was one person interested in sweeping me off of my feet. Though doing so would probably break his back.

On Tuesday, one of the female patients at the nursing home was playing a board game with a couple of other people when she got fed up and stuffed the game pieces down her pants. I had the lovely task of retrieving them. The man who hit on me the night before barely looked in my direction that day. I think he forgot about me.

On Wednesday, one of the older residents at the nursing home informed me that his wife was coming to see him today. She died seven years ago. My eyes welled up with tears as he told about the first time he laid his eyes on her and how he proposed two years later. He was excited to see her again, he told me. I didn't have the heart to remind him that she was gone.

******

_Thursday, session two_

"How come you don't have anything personal in here?" I asked.

Dr. Cullens eyes flashed up to mine, finally looking away from the pad of paper. "How do you mean?"

"There are no pictures of your family or anything. No Dr. Cullen touches. Nothing that reflects your personality." I glanced around the plain room that had nothing vibrant sticking out. "Or, then again, maybe it fits you perfectly."

"What does your room look like?" he asked in calm and professional voice, like always.

I couldn't exactly describe the homeless shelter. So I shrugged my shoulders. "Pink and glittery," I answered dryly.

He tapped the end of the pen on his pad of paper and stared at me.

"What's yours look like?" I asked. "Batman action figures cluttered around on the floor? Spiderman blankets?"

"Tell me about your favorite childhood memory," Dr. Cullen requested, changing the subject as he kept his eyes glued to my face.

"Favorite childhood memory? What does that have to do with determining whether or not something is messed up inside my brain?"

"Just humor me."

I sighed. "Favorite childhood memory," I repeated. "That's a tough one." I paused for a moment to think. "I don't know. I can't really think of anything specific."

He lifted his hand and waved it above his lap. "Just a moment that you particularly enjoyed when you were younger."

I tilted my head. Mental images flashed through my mind. I bit on my bottom lip until my eyes lit up and I smiled. "Oh!"

Dr. Cullen smiled at me. Not condescendingly or even professionally. He seemed genuinely pleased by my reaction.

"When I was around eight years old," I started, "I wanted to be a storm chaser." I shook my head and chuckled to myself. "I was just so fascinated by tornadoes, but I was also terrified of them at the same time. My dad, Charlie, he was in the military, and we were stationed in Nebraska. We got a lot of tornado warnings and watches over there. I would be excited when a watch would pop up on the TV screen, but once the sirens went off and the watch turned into a warning, I'd suddenly get scared. I remember one time, when there was a tornado watch and the sky was dark gray and ominous looking, I ran into my room, pulled out my tape recorder…" My eyes shifted to Dr. Cullen, who had risen an eyebrow. "I liked documenting my personal discoveries with what I saw outside. So that if a tornado really did come, I'd remember how it all started and be able to brag about it to my friends," I explained.

"So, anyway," I continued. "I ran outside and stared up at the sky. I was friends with most of the neighborhood kids my age, and they all knew that they could find me outside when there was a warning issued. So about four other kids stood beside me on the lawn and we watched the sky, and I spoke into the tape recorder about what I saw. It started raining, and then one of the kids pointed at something that looked like a funnel cloud. Suddenly I was petrified," I laughed. "I always wanted to see a tornado, but when it became real, I was a blubbering mess.

"A siren went off shortly after that, so the other kids ran home, and I went into the house with my arms flailing wildly and told my dad that there was a tornado, though I didn't actually see one. I was afraid the funnel cloud would be directly over my house and the tornado would come down on us," I said as I smiled and rolled my eyes.

"So Charlie and I opened all of the windows in case there would be a tornado, we didn't want the glass to shatter, and we gathered up a bunch of blankets, flashlights and some water and food, and we went into the basement. On our way down there, the power went off. I was so scared, but Charlie just pulled me close to him and we camped out in the basement. Like I told you before, he was never around much. But that night, we spent hours down there, just talking and shinning the flashlights in each other's eyes playfully. He told me stories about my mom." My eyes glazed over and I shrugged a shoulder. "It probably doesn't sound all that great, but it really meant a lot to me. I got to spend time with my dad and hear about my mom. I was so young when she died so I didn't really remember her. When Charlie told me stories about her, I could visualize it, and it was like his memories became my memories."

I heard the pen move across the pad of paper as Dr. Cullen wrote something down. I hoped he wasn't repeating what I said verbatim. That'd be a lot of writing.

"Tell me about your father," Dr. Cullen said without lifting up his pen.

"Charlie," I mused. "There's isn't much to say about him. He joined the military a couple months after I was born. He wasn't strict or anything though. The exact opposite, actually. He was very lenient, quiet and distant." I rubbed my fingers over the arm of the couch. "Maybe a little too distant," I admitted. "I never really felt like he was really with me, even when he was sitting in the room. He rarely acted the way he did when we spent the night in the basement. He never grounded me or anything. He let me get away with pretty much anything. I rebelled a few times, just to see if he'd do anything. He never did."

"Why do you think that was?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. I wasn't a mind reader."

He pursed his lips. "Try to get inside your father's head. Why do you think he was so distant? Just guess."

I sighed and leaned my head back. I didn't know how to answer, and Dr. Cullen was starting to annoy me. I didn't see how this was relevant. More memories flashed in my mind.

"Maybe…" I trailed off and bit on my bottom lip. "Maybe he was depressed because my mom was gone. He had to raise me by himself. Sort of. My Aunt and Uncle helped out sometimes, especially when he was overseas." I shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know. But sometimes I felt like he worked so much to avoid me."

"Why would you think that?"

"I don't know," I replied.

"Yes, you do."

I rolled my eyes. "This is stupid."

"I guarantee you it's not," he said.

I rubbed my hands over my eyes. "He just…he seemed uncomfortable when we'd see a parent hug their child, or be affectionate in any way." I shook my head. "I really don't want to talk about this anymore. It's making me cranky. And no one likes a cranky Bella."

"Thank you, Bella," Dr. Cullen said with a smile.

My brows furrowed. "For what?"

"For opening up and being honest," he replied.

I sat up straighter and cleared my throat. "Well, don't expect that to happen too often."

He looked at me as if he had anticipated me to react that way. He nodded his head absentmindedly and looked at me with pity filled eyes. What the hell did he pity me for? I had to squash that shit. I didn't need his or anyone else's pity.

"So, what about you?" I asked. "What was your childhood like? Was it traumatizing? Is that why you became a psychologist?"

He pressed his lips together and jotted something down. I let myself slip by answering his question seriously, I wasn't going to do it again.

"Tell me something about your mother," he requested emotionlessly, pen positioned above the pad of paper.

I pursed my lips and shook my head.

"Bella." He sighed. "I want to help you, but I can't if you refuse to cooperate."

I sighed. "All I want is for you to tell Dr. Banner that there's something wrong with me. I know there is."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Bella, last week, you asked me what I thought your prognosis was. If you want a genuine assessment, I need you to try to work with me."

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. "She had dark hair and brown eyes. I've been told I look like her. I guess I do, but I've only seen her in pictures…"

******

When the session ended, Edward thanked me again and said he was proud of me. I rolled my eyes. I wasn't doing it for him. It was for my own selfish gain. I wanted to know what was going on in that head of mine. And although I hated it, he was the ticket to convincing Dr. Banner for another CT scan.

That night, after work, I went to my cot with a large leather brown journal in my hands. I sat down on the edge of the cot and opened the journal up. It was Renee's. It was the only thing I had that belonged to her. My only connection to her now. She started writing in it when she was pregnant with me. She wrote down her thoughts about being a mom, and what gender she thought I'd be, and different baby names she was interested in.

She was so excited when she felt me kick for the first time. She continued writing after I was born. She talked about my first smile, and how much she loved me and Charlie. She mentioned that I was a product of unconditional love and she absolutely cherished me.

As the years went on, she started mentioning how odd she was feeling. She knew it wasn't normal, and said she'd get checked out by a doctor. Her next entry was written in messy hand writing, obviously she was writing fast or probably couldn't see due to her tears, she wrote down her diagnosis, and her fear about whether or not she would die. She mentioned that she was scared to leave me and Charlie behind. She was worried that I'd grow up without a mother. After that entry, she began writing to me. She said that she wanted me to know how much I was loved. She began her entries with 'Dear Bella' from that point on. She wrote words of encouragement, writing things down that mother's usually talked to their daughters about as they grew up. I wish I knew what her voice sounded like.

I read one of her entries.

_Dear Bella,_

_You're growing up so fast. Today you drew a pretty picture for daddy, and we played with your new plastic kitchen set. I found myself watching you with a wide smile on my face several times during the day. Your innocence and youth leaves me captivated and reminds me that life is worth living, no matter how difficult the struggles tend to be. If I could offer you any piece of advice, it would be to live each day as if it were your last. Accomplish your goals and live your dreams. You can do anything and be anyone. Don't accept 'no' and 'you can't do it' for an answer. You're my daughter, and you're capable of doing anything._

_I still pray that I'll be around for your first date, your high school graduation, your wedding and the birth of your children. Though the doctors find me silly for hoping for so much time, I pay no attention to them and continue to pray for the impossible. Miracles are real, Bella. I pray to have mine granted. Though if I don't get it, it will be okay. I've accepted my fate. The only fear I have is not watching you grow into the beautiful woman that I know you will become. I hope, as you're reading this, that all of your dreams are coming true._

_I love you,_

_Mom_

Tears stung my eyes and I traced over a picture she had pasted into the journal. It was a picture of her and me standing in front the kitchen set she mentioned in her entry. I was almost four years old, and I was holding up a small plastic pink plate with a fake muffin on top, offering it to her. She was gazing down at me, it looked as though she were laughing. My fingers trailed over the outline of her face. My heart clenched and my throat tightened.

I wished I could follow her advice. But I felt as though I didn't want to do anything. I didn't have the motivation. Life had brought me nothing but bad luck time and time again. I had just given up. There wasn't anything to fight for. Nothing that made me want to keep going. I had no family, very few friends, and two doctors who thought I was crazy. I was hoping that being diagnosed with something would give me the desire to strive to live and enjoy life. It worked for Renee.

I heard footsteps nearby and immediately tensed up. I wiped the tears underneath my eyes and cleared my throat. My firm mask slipped back on in place and my shoulders squared off.

"Hello." The bipolar woman who shared a room with me greeted as she moved towards her cot. "How are you?"

"Lovely," I answered dryly. "You?"

"Just peachy," came the snappy reply.

"Awesome," I said dully.

I leaned back, clutched the journal to my chest and closed my eyes.


	3. Week Two

**MUST READ!!!** I know a lot of people don't read author's notes…but…you have to read this one…because I said so. If you don't, I'll know. Not really. But seriously, read this.

Sorry for the delay. Been super busy…with everything. I know I haven't really responded to any reviews, but that's because I checked my emails quickly and said I'd get back to them…and I never did. My fault. I thank you ALL for the reviews. You're all great and amazing. And thank you. I will respond to PMs later. If you asked a question in your last review and I didn't answer and you really want me to answer, ask again…and I'll respond. After I post this chapter, I'm outta here. I'm literally being shoved towards the door as I type this. If you want to know what's going on with my other stories, ask in a review or PM, I don't care which, and I'll get back to you tonight.

**Chapter Three - Week Two**

_Monday, session three_

"What is one of your worst fears?" Dr. Cullen asked as he sat down in the same chair as always, with his pad of paper on his lap and his pen ready to jot something down.

I sighed and traced my fingertip over the thin black hair tie around my wrist. "Spending ten weeks with a psychologist who prefers to discuss irrelevant topics," I answered.

He was unfazed by my remark. "Why is that?"

I glanced up at him. "You should be asking me about my symptoms and comparing them to other brain tumor patients' symptoms."

"I'm a psychologist, Bella," he said simply. "I don't have any expertise in brain tumors."

I dug a finger underneath the hair tie, lifted it and snapped it against my wrist. "You can't even give me medication, can you?" I asked. "So why am I even here?"

"No, I can't. I'm not a psychiatrist," he said in response to my first question. "If it turns out that you don't have a brain tumor, would you like to find out if something else is wrong?"

"You're not a real doctor, that's not your area of expertise," I said with a smirk.

He sighed. I was finally getting to him. "I was referring to your mental evaluation."

"You mean you want to find out if I'm schizophrenic or something?" I leaned my back against the armrest and stretched my legs out on the couch. "I might be. I mean, I'm pretty sure I don't hear voices or hallucinate or anything, but how would I really know? Crazy people don't know they're crazy, right?"

"Having schizophrenia doesn't make a person crazy," he said with no emotion in his voice. "And you don't appear to be schizophrenic."

"How do you know I'm not schizophrenic?" I asked. "All you do is talk about feelings."

"Do you think you have schizophrenia?" he asked, his hand holding the pen was just itching to scribble away on that pad of paper.

"No. I didn't say I have schizophrenia or even hint that I thought I did. You shrinks really know how to jumble everything up and put words in a person's mouth."

"Why do you think that?"

My eyes narrowed at him. "You," I pointed at him, "are getting on my last nerve."

"Why is that?"

I threw my head back and whimpered. "_Why is that? Why do you think that? Why do you feel that way?_" I mimicked and covered my hands over my face. "You know what? I bet you get a bunch of normal people coming in here, but you drive them crazy with your incessant and annoying questions just to send them over the edge so you can make more money off of them."

"I'm doing this pro bono," he reminded me. Meaning that I didn't have to pay for my sessions with him. He was doing it for free. Which was one of the reasons why Dr. Banner suggested him to me. Dr. Cullen certainly wasn't a selfish or greedy person. Though he didn't do this for _all_ of his patients. Just the ones with low income.

"Not for everyone," I said. "But since you mentioned it, why are you doing this for free?"

"I became a psychologist because I genuinely want to help people. Some people who need it the most can't afford it, so I volunteer my services," he explained.

I saw double meaning behind that. "So does that mean I'm one of those people who desperately need so much help that people like you have to resort to charity?"

He leaned forward slightly and cupped his chin with his hand. "Why are you afraid of seeking help?"

I sat back up and stared at him incredulously. "Obviously I'm not," I spoke slowly. "I wouldn't keep going to Dr. Banner if I was."

He shook his head. "Let me re-phrase that, why are you scared to discover that you may not have a brain tumor and find out if there's a possibility that you're suffering from an alternate problem? There could be an underlying issue here."

I crossed my right leg over my left, propped my elbow up on the arm rest and rested the side of my face against my fist. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Your mother," he started, "how did she die?"

"I already told you," I snapped.

He shook his head. "No, you mentioned she had cancer, but you never said what she was diagnosed with."

I kept my lips zipped and shifted my eyes away from him.

"Bella," he said, trying to gain my attention. "Did she have a brain tumor?"

I glanced at the empty off-white walls. He needed to paint this room or at least add posters, or pictures or something. It was so plain and dull. He only had one wall with bookshelves lined up against it. The rest of the walls were bare, besides the one window.

"Bella," he repeated. "Would I be correct in my assumption that she passed away when she was in her early twenties? Perhaps twenty-two or twenty-three years old?

I averted my eyes back to him. "Why are you talking about Renee? What does this have to do with anything?"

"Subconsciously," he said, "you may have invented the tumor because of your mother. Either because you're afraid it might be genetic, or you want a connection to her. Maybe you want to experience what she went through because you envy the way she lived the last years of her life."

I rolled my eyes. "Where did you pull that one from? One of your textbooks? I already explained why I think I have a brain tumor."

He placed the paper and pen on the desk and sat up straighter. _Oh, yay. Another heart-to-heart conversation. How I cherish these._ "You've mentioned that in order to be able to do things you want to do, you must have a deadline. That makes sense in a way. Many people procrastinate and need an extra push to get moving."

"Your point?" I interrupted, irritated. I liked to annoy doctors, I didn't like it when it was the other way around.

He cleared his throat. "My point," he said, "is that is an excuse for not following through on the list of things you wish to accomplish. Your reasoning has no foundation for why you believe you have a brain tumor. There is an entirely separate reason for why you think you're sick."

I perched myself on the edge of the couch and took a deep breath. "Dr. Cullen, no offense, but you have _no_ freaking idea what you're talking about."

He nodded his head once. "Go on. Tell me what you're thinking."

"Did your memory wipe out the parts where I said that I needed the brain tumor to feel that 'push'?"

"I said that your excuse for not living the way you want to is because you have no deadline, thus your excuse for the brain tumor."

"Yes," I said slowly.

"That's not the reason why you think you have the tumor."

My hands clenched into fists and I restrained myself from screaming out. "Yes," I said menacingly, "it is."

He shook his head. He was pushing me. "Bella, listen to me. You've explained that you need a push to complete the goals on your list. You're not explaining why you think you have a tumor."

"That _is_ the reason," I practically screeched. "And I _do_ have a tumor. It's not just wishful thinking."

He sighed and shook his head again. "Something else trigged you into believing that you have a tumor. The reason does not relate to the list."

_Deep breaths. Deep breaths. You don't want attack Dr. Cullen. You don't want to spend the night in a jail cell._ "So are you telling me that I've been lying to you about why I thought I had a brain tumor? 'Cause let me tell you something pal, I _wasn't_ lying."

"No," he said as he leaned even closer towards me. "I believe that you genuinely think you have a brain tumor. You've said that you have symptoms, and I truly believe that you believe that."

"Or," I countered, "maybe I really _do_ have a brain tumor."

"The CT scan came back clean."

"You know what?" I said loudly. "You're going to feel awful shitty when we go back to Dr. Banner in nine weeks and my tumor shows up on the results."

"If that happens to be the case, then, yes, I agree. I would feel terrible for your situation." He picked up the paper and pen, and began writing. "Tell me something, Bella. If it turned out that you do have a tumor, how would you react?"

I shrugged a shoulder. "I'd just be like, 'I knew it'."

His forehead wrinkled. "Are you sure about that?"

"You asked and I answered," I snapped.

"Do you remember telling me that wish you could feel alive?"

I nodded my head slowly with my eyebrows raised.

"If you do have a tumor, and that causes you to appreciate life, what will go through your mind when you're happy and _want_ to live? How will you deal with the realization that you don't have much time left? After all of the trouble you went through to enjoy your life, it's suddenly snatched from beneath you, how will that make everything better?"

I opened my mouth but snapped it shut again. I actually never thought of that before.

The expression on his face showed that he knew what I was thinking. Okay, so he was right about that. So what? But maybe I'd never have fun, even after I discovered the tumor.

"Have you given any thought to marriage or children?" he asked suddenly.

_What the hell?_ "Why? Planning on proposing, doc?" I snickered. "Are we going to escape to some tropical island together and live happily ever after?"

"Seriously," he said, "what are your thoughts on marriage?"

I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the couch. "I think it's not in the cards for me so I couldn't care less about it."

He looked perplexed. "Why do you say that?"

"Who'd want to marry me?" I said bitterly. "Everyone thinks I'm crazy. The best I'd be able to get is someone in prison because he has limited options, or someone who belongs in a mental institution, like me. Even if I don't think I'm crazy, other people do. So it must be true. And like I said before, crazy people don't realize they're crazy. I still stand by my statement that I have brain tumor, though. I don't think I'm crazy when it comes to that that, I probably just have a personality disorder or something."

He stayed silent for a moment, then he began to speak. "There are several things I wish to address about what you just said. The first is, you do not belong in a mental institution. If you did, that's where you'd be right this moment. I view you as a normal woman with slightly…eccentric tendencies. Sure, you're convinced you have a serious illness when you appear to be healthy, but that doesn't make you a candidate for an institution. You're able to function properly in the world, and you're not a threat to yourself or others.

"The second is," he continued, "you have plenty of options when it comes to picking a partner. You're attractive, and you have a likeable personality when you're not trying to insult others while attempting to hide how you really feel. I personally believe you'd have many available suitors chasing after you if you gave them the chance."

My eyes locked onto his, starting when he mentioned that I was attractive. "Right. You're just saying that because you're my psychologist and you have to give me hope and all of that other stupid bullshit."

"Actually," he said as he shifted uncomfortably. "I shouldn't say things like that."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Yeah, sure." I glanced at the clock. "Oh, look at that, it's almost noon. I guess I should get going."

I stood up, and he followed. "Have a good day, Bella," he said genuinely.

I looked at him before nodding and mumbling, "you too."

I left his office, hurried towards the elevator, and once I was inside and the doors closed, I slumped against the wall and my eyes filled with tears. Marriage, children, happiness - things my mother had, things I'd never be able to have.

The doors opened and I rushed out past a small family waiting to get in. I had to hurry up and get to the shelter so I could change for work. It was going to be a long week.

******

Tuesday rolled by without incident. Work was boring, most people avoided me, and my closest friend was the man in the nursing home who kept insisting that today was the day that his wife would come to visit him. I often found myself lingering around him, and he'd tell me stories about her. He seemed to remember his past rather well, it was last twenty or so years that he seemed to have forgotten.

Wednesday was awful. I woke up late, someone at the shelter spilled their orange juice on my work uniform and I didn't have time to change or wash it. I tripped while walking up the stairs. I bumped into an end table and skimmed my knee. I kept limping all day.

I ran into Jessica and her friend Lauren when I went out to eat by myself. She pretended to be polite and asked if I found a place yet, I lied and said yes. I didn't want to give her the pleasure of knowing that I had been staying in a homeless shelter. She was under the impression that I was staying with a friend when she kicked me out of our apartment. I hadn't spoken to said friend in almost a year.

That night I had a nightmare, but I couldn't remember the details when I woke up Thursday morning. I just knew that it scared the hell out of me and I had tears on my face.

******

_Thursday, session four_

I was still limping from when I banged my knee yesterday and I hopped into Dr. Cullen's office. He was hunched over his laptop when I entered and shut the door behind me. I limped over to the couch, and by the time I sat down and looked up, Dr. Cullen was staring at me.

"What happened to your leg?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing," I answered quickly. "Gravity and I aren't the best of friends."

He stood up from his desk chair and moved over to the chair beside the couch. "How are you feeling today?"

I shrugged a shoulder. "Fine."

He pursed his lips and tapped the pen against the pad of paper. "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "Should I?"

"Tomorrow is Halloween."

I rolled my eyes. "Sorry, doc, I outgrew my princess costume and cheap candy makes me feel sick."

"You're not going to a party with friends?"

I looked away. "Sure, maybe."

He wanted to spend today's session talking about my school experiences and old friends. I didn't know why. Didn't seem relevant to me. I explained that I moved all over the country, and even lived in Germany, Japan and England for a period of time so I never had too many friends as I got older. We moved around too much. When I was younger, I made friends easily and it never really bothered me that I kept making them and leaving them because I was quite resilient. But as I got older and reached middle school, it became harder to leave friends behind, and Charlie and I became more distant from each other.

My junior year in high school, we moved to Chicago when Charlie went into the Reserves. I had lived in Chicago since. After high school I went to Northwestern University, but dropped out after Charlie passed away. My ambition disappeared the same time he did.

For some reason unknown to me, Edward found that rather interesting. He wanted to keep talking about it, but our time was up. We said goodbye and I left.

******

I didn't have work on Friday, so I stayed at the shelter all day and helped the workers decorate the place for the party they were hosting for under privileged children. They had a bunch of games set up, and there were buckets and buckets of candy everywhere. The poor kids were going to get so many cavities. The shelter was funded by a charity, some of the donators were going to stop by today and help out or just observe to see what their money was spent on.

You couldn't imagine my surprise when a familiar bronzed haired man walked in with a short woman who had spiky black hair. _What was he doing here?_ He couldn't see me here. Not in a homeless shelter. That wouldn't be good.

I ducked behind a table that held the fruit punch and bit on one of my fingernails. I silently prayed that he would walk straight back out, or least turn around so I could sneak out.

A small kid accidentally bumped into me and dropped something. I reached down to pick it up without looking directly at it, when I looked down, I screamed and jumped up. It was a rubber spider. But it looked real.

It took me a moment to notice that the entire place was silent and every pair of eyes were on me. Including his. _Uh oh._

"Oopsie." I laughed nervously before I felt as though I would throw up and faint in front of everyone. There were too many pairs of eyes on me. Too many people. Way too many people.

Slowly, people started looking away, their interest in me subsiding once they realized nothing spectacular was going to happen. At first they probably thought I was going to put on a little show, or maybe they expected some big scary guy in a monster costume to jump out. I didn't know, but they didn't seem to care about my outburst anymore.

I caught a pair of green eyes trained on me so I inhaled a deep breath before spinning around and high tailing it towards the back of the shelter, were a tent was set up for crystal ball readings. The staff had hired some lady to tell the children their fortunes for fun. As far as I knew, she hadn't arrived yet.

Wasn't it just convenient that he happened to come _here_ today? Did he follow me here after one of our sessions? Or perhaps he was one of the donators. But seriously, how likely was that? Dude probably had his people keeping tabs on me.

Said stalker was headed my way as he dodged children dressed as zombies, skeletons, pumpkins, witches, vampires and princesses.

I whistled a snazzy tune from the fifties and bent over to pretend to be tying my laceless shoes.

"Bella?" I felt the ominous presence of Doctor Edward Cullen.

I whistled louder.

"Bella?" he repeated and a warm hand pressed against the fabric on my hunched back.

I wanted to say that I wasn't this Bella person, that it was just a mask, and since it was Halloween, maybe he'd fall for it. But I decided that pretending he was invisible would be a better and safer option.

A female voice cut through the voices and music swirling around us. "Follow me and get your fortune told by the mystic and enchanted crystal ball."

My head shot up as I caught a glimpse of the black haired woman disappearing into the tent.

"Bella?" Dr. Cullen called my name for third time.

Oh, what the hell, he wasn't going to give up anytime soon. I darted my gaze over to him and pretended to be surprised. "Dr. Cullen! Sup?"

He gave me an odd look. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"Whistling."

"Why?"

"The tumor is pressing down on my brain. It makes me behave erratically." I pushed myself up. "What're doin' here? In a shelter? On Halloween?"

He glanced towards the opening in the tent. "I brought my niece, actually."

"Aw. You have a niece?" I looked around for a little girl. "Where is she? You know, you really shouldn't leave kids alone around here. There might be some children snatchers lurking about."

He seemed to find what I said amusing. "She can handle herself. What are you doing here?"

I rubbed my hands together nervously and started at a spot on the floor. "I was…lost…and I…um…spotted a large group of people, so…I…followed the crowd here? Yeah." I glanced up at him before quickly looking away again. "So, um, why did you ditch your niece to say howdy to me?"

A head with black hair popped out from the tent. "_I_ do the ditching, he didn't ditch me."

I stared at her incredulously as she disappeared back into the tent, then my eyes shot over to Edward. "I thought you said you were here with your niece."

"I did," he confirmed.

"So who was that?" I pointed at the tent.

"My niece."

"But she's like…old…er."

The head popped back out. "Twenty-four is not old!" And the head slipped inside.

I turned to Dr. Cullen. "You have a twenty-four old niece?"

He nodded.

"Jeez. What are you? Forty-five? You look damn good for your age." I blushed at near the end of my sentence and shook my head. I didn't mean for it to sound like that.

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Actually, she's my much older brother's daughter."

"So was it like a _Father of the Bride part two_ type of thing?"

Before he could reply, Angela approached us. Uh-oh. "Bella, there you are." She breathed a sigh of relief.

_Gah. Shoo, woman! Shoo! I'm pretending _not_ to live at the shelter right now! _I made wild hand gestures as Edward feasted his eyes on her and vertical twin crease lines appeared between his brows.

Angela cocked her head to the side. "Are you feeling alright, hon?" she asked in concerned tone.

Edward snapped his head back towards me and my hands froze in mid-air. I smiled before hiding them behind my back. "I'm fantastic, lady I've never met before. Oh, look, it's late. Bedtime. Better get home. Later!" I spun on my heel but was stopped by the sound of Angela's voice.

"Bella, are you sure you're okay?"

I turned around and shot her an annoyed look.

"You didn't drink anything funny tasting, did you?" she asked. "Why don't you go lie in your bed for a bit?"

I slammed my palm against my forehead. I hoped Dr. Cullen wasn't smart enough to put two and two together, but since he had a PhD even though he looked fairly young, I'd say that the chances that he was one those meathead jocks in college were slim to none.

"Do you two know each other?" Dr. Cullen gestured between the two of us.

I whimpered and knew it was inevitable, he was going to discover my secret.

Angela did a double take before her eyes lit up. "Oh, Dr. Cullen! I didn't recognize you!"

I snorted. Who could forget what he looked like? The dude was easy on the eyes. Pretentious and annoying, but not bad looking. And now was when I just realized that Angela and the doc knew each other. Crap.

"Please, call me Edward," Dr. Cullen insisted. "It's nice to see you again. How is your family?"

"Oh, you know." Her gaze lowered and her smile dimmed. "Ben's having a rough time coping and he has a habit of shutting me out, but he is getting better. Thanks to you."

I was able to form some of the missing pieces myself now. Ben was Angela's husband who was in the military and had been overseas when there was an explosion and he lost his arm, and now suffered from PTSD. I assumed, judging by the conversation Dr. Cullen and Angela were now carrying, that he was Ben's psychologist.

The older I got, the more I realized how unfair and harsh life could be. Tragedy was constantly lurking around the corner. It had been years since my dreams of happily ever afters crossed my mind. No one ever lived a true fairytale. It was all bullshit.

"Oh, well, I love working here," Angela's voice rang in my ears. She and Dr. Cullen were in the middle of a conversation but I felt weird about listening in so I had blocked out most of it. I was thinking about sneaking away when her next words made me wish I were invisible. "It always boosts my confidence about being able to overcome unfortunate circumstances when I meet people like Bella," she gestured to me, "who have very little and they're still getting through the day with a smile on their face." She smiled at me. "She's definitely one of my favorites in the shelter. She's always helping others and she's a great person in general."

Dr. Cullen nodded his head absentmindedly. "How long have you been staying in the shelter, Miss Swan?"

I groaned and searched for an escape. "It's just temporary," I insisted.

A volunteer came up to Angela and demanded her attention with something. So it was just me and Dr. Cullen standing face to face.

He looked serious. "You failed to mention to your current living situation. I was under the impression you were renting an apartment with a roommate."

I frowned. "I didn't want your pity."

He sighed. "Do you want to take a walk so we can talk?"

"Is that allowed?" I asked cautiously. "You're not going to charge me extra for this, are you?"

"I've never asked you to pay for a single session," he reminded me. "Think of it as two friends catching up."

I pursed my lips. "Does that mean you'll tell me something about yourself?"

"Let's keep the focus on you."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, great. I get to play the babbling selfish friend."

He poked his head inside the tent and told his niece that he was going for a walk and he'd be back in half an hour.

"Forty-seven minutes," she corrected.

I glanced at Dr. Cullen. "Don't tell me she honestly believes she's psychic."

"I _am_ psychic!"

I raised my eyebrows and mouthed, "Oookay."

Dr. Cullen shook his head and motioned for me to lead the way towards the exit.

"I am!" I heard the niece whine.

I held a finger up to Dr. Cullen and snuck into the tent. Niece Cullen was sitting behind a table with a crystal ball on top, she had a ridiculous outfit on, trying to appear as being mystical or magical or whatever.

"If you're psychic, tell me exactly what's going to happen in five minutes," I demanded.

"It doesn't work like that," she replied calmly.

"Uh huh. Okay. That's a total cop-out."

She closed her eyes and glided her tiny pale hands in the air, near to the crystal ball but never touching. "I see your future," she hummed comically.

I rolled my hand in a circular motion, prompting her to continue.

"I only give readings to paying costumers." She held her hand out.

"You're so fake, and you're scamming poor children out of money!"

She pointed to the sign to her sign.

"Payment required: Two chocolate tootsie rolls and a miniature Crunch bar," I already aloud. I narrowed my eyes. "You're taking candy from children? At a charity function?"

Dr. Cullen stepped inside and ushered me out.

"I'm on to you, Niece Cullen!" I shouted as I followed her uncle.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Bella Swan!" she shouted back.

I paused and looked my doctor in the eyes. "Did you tell her my name?"

He shook his head. "No."

My brows furrowed and I stared at the tent in shock.

"But it's on your nametag," he continued.

I glanced down. Sure enough, my name tag on the front of my shirt had my name on it. I laughed. "Nice try, Niece Cullen! You almost fooled me. Better luck next time!"

Dr. Cullen rose an eyebrow at me for an explanation for my behavior.

I sighed. "I have a personal issue with so called psychics." We continued walking towards the great outdoors. "I used to believe in them when I was younger, and well, there was one that I went to see for at least six months, and she seemed pretty convincing. That was until she claimed to be communicating with my dead mother, and I was skeptical at first, but then I fell for it. It was all a scam. She made me believe that my mom was actually watching over me, but then there was a lot of media coverage about her being a fraud and ripping people off and giving them false hope. I should've known better."

We stepped outside and Dr. Cullen stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Alice isn't a psychic. She's just playing the part tonight."

"I still hate frauds," I muttered.

Dr. Cullen just stared at me.

I sighed again. "I know, how hypocritical, right? Everyone believes I'm pretending to have a brain tumor and here I am talking about how much I hate people faking that they have something they don't. But, I'm not trying to scam people. I just know that there's something wrong. I don't care what those test results showed. I can feel it. I just know it's there. I wish someone would listen to me. Just believe me."

He cleared his throat. "I believe you, Bella. I may not be confident that you have a tumor, but I am certain that you believe you do."

I sighed. "That's not the same thing, and you know it."

He breathed heavily out of his nose and pursed his lips. "Do you want to talk about why you're staying in the shelter?"

"I guess I kind of have to, don't I?"

"I'm not forcing you to say anything."

We walked side by side on the sidewalk as little monsters ran past us smiling, laughing and hold bags filled with candy.

"But, I mean, I have to be honest, right? Otherwise, how else can you trust me?" I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Okay, so I was sharing an apartment with Jessica, but we had a…falling out. Well, actually, she packed my bags and kicked me out, but to be fair, I lied and told her that I had another place to go. She doesn't know I'm staying in the shelter."

"She kicked you out?" he asked with a tone mixing between incredulity and defensiveness. "That's illegal. You should have contacted the-"

"I know," I interrupted, "But she had good blackmail material."

He shook his head silently before he sighed. "I think we should work on you becoming more assertive."

Dr. Cullen and I spent the rest of the time talking about apartment hunting. He gave me a few numbers and addresses and asked me to check them out. As safe as the shelter was, he said he'd prefer it if I moved into an apartment. Since I had a job, I could afford one, but only a terribly small one. We did live in Chicago, after all. Everything was ridiculously expensive. I'd either need to get a roommate or slum it.

When we returned to the shelter, I introduced Dr. Cullen to Jakey. They didn't seem to like each other very well. Jake sneered at him. Well, he got as close to sneering as a ferret could.

I apologized to Niece Cullen and she simply flashed a smile and told me to hand her my palm. Apparently the lines on my palm indicated that I was going to live a long life, be moderately wealthy and have a crappy love life. She was correct about the love life, but the other two, no way. I told her to keep her day job, and in response, she asked me to have lunch sometime soon.

Strange girl.

I wondered if it was inappropriate for me to interact with my psychologist's niece on a personal level. Ah, hell, as if I even cared.

Rules were meant to be broken anyway.

**Author's Note: **So, I combined the original chapters three and four together….because I could. If you skipped over the first author's note…you should read it. I typed it out for all of you. Even risked my sister beating me up so we could hurry up and leave.


	4. Week Three

**Author's Note:** Just a reminder: this story takes place in 2008. Not 2009.

**Chapter Four – Week Three**

_Monday, session five_

"1996," I said out loud to myself and tossed the penny aside. I picked up another penny and inspected it before I muttered, "no."

"2006. No. 1998. Psh, yeah right. 1967. Definitely not." I sighed in frustration and continued throwing the pennies on the cushion beside me.

Dr. Cullen was currently preoccupied with something. The receptionist told me wait in his office and he'd join me momentarily. I had been waiting for two minutes when I grew bored and decided to examine my pennies, looking for one that had my birth year on it.

"1989. No, but close." I threw the dull penny in the growing pile. I had far too many pennies in my wallet. In fact, I had so many that my wallet couldn't close all the way. I was thinking about handing them all over to Dr. Cullen, and he could add them all together and purchase something for the office. Something nice. Something to go with the off-white walls, blue couch and maroon drapes. Actually, he'd probably only be able to afford a few packs of gum with the pennies. But seriously, who matched midnight blue and maroon together? It didn't look right. The man clearly had bad taste, or he just didn't care.

At least he didn't go overboard like Charlie, though. A couple years after Renee died, Charlie and I moved to a small military townhouse, and he had no clue about decorating. We went to the store and he had me pick out random things that would look good in the house. He even let me pick out the carpet for the living room. It was pink.

We had a poster of puppies in a basket in the living room. Stuffed animals littered the couches, as if they were throw pillows. Decorative flowers were perched on small shelves that Charlie had hammered to the wall. Nearly every inch of the wall was decorated to a six year old girls taste.

I'm pretty sure I was the only kid in my school that was allowed to choose exactly how the interior of their house looked.

I thought the house looked normal; until I started making friends and hung over at their houses. Their houses didn't have animal posters and flowers in every corner. But Charlie probably did it to make me happy, since it was just him and me, and he wasn't around often.

I shook my head, successfully sweeping away the memory and continued studying my pennies. "1990. Nope."

I tossed it to the side and picked up another one as the door opened and Dr. Cullen stepped into the office. I peered up at his bewildered expression. He looked at the pile of pennies and a crease appeared between his brows. Then he looked at me, and the crease deepened. His eyes drifted back to the pennies again.

"Bella?" he said in an uncertain tone, making it sound like a question.

"Yes?" I said as I cast my eyes down and looked at the year on the penny in my hand.

"What are you-"

"1971." I shook my head and glanced up at him. "Can you believe that this penny has been around for thirty-seven years? It's older than me. It's older than _you_!"

"Bella," he repeated. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for my birth year," I replied nonchalantly. "I went through like thirty of them so far, and the closest I got to was 1989."

He looked even more perplexed than before. "I'm sorry?"

I leaned back and threw the penny on the pile. "You ever think about how many other people owned the pennies you currently have in your wallet?"

He walked over to his desk to pull out his pad of paper and shook his head at me. "No. I don't use cash. Debit and credit only."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well not all of us have a bank account." I reached for another penny. "1984. Damn." I shook my head. "Why can't I find one with _my_ birth year on it?" I pursed my lips and eyed Dr. Cullen. "What year were you born in?" I asked him.

He walked around the desk, held the paper and pen in his hand and sat down in the chair beside me. "Why?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "It's just a question, doc. You make me answer pointless questions, figured you could answer one of mine."

He was silent for a moment. "1980," he said quietly.

I smiled to myself. He answered. We were finally getting somewhere. "You're only six years older than me," I stated. "How the hell are you a psychologist? Don't you have to do the typical four years of college, and then get your masters, then spend like four or six years getting a PhD and have to do some sort of internship?"

He stayed silent and offered no explanation for why he was a psychologist at twenty-eight years old.

"Do your friends call you Ed or Eddie?" I asked.

"Neither," he answered quickly.

"Why not?"

"I've never been fond of either nickname."

"How come?"

"I prefer Edward."

I snickered. "Gee golly, that sure is a swell name."

He sighed and opened the pad up. "How are you doing today, Bella?"

"Fantastic," I replied absentmindedly. "Why did your parents name you Edward?"

He glanced over at me before looking down at his paper. "Have you considered looking into the apartment I told you about?"

"Is it a family name?" I asked. "And yes."

"Good. Have you contacted anyone yet?"

"You don't like talking about your personal life, do you?" I crossed my legs and ignored the pennies. "You know, I think I'm starting to figure you out. You avoid questions regarding your family, and you don't have any pictures of them. I think you might have daddy issues."

He dismissed my comments. "When do you plan on looking for a place? Have you thought about getting a roommate?"

"Do you want to talk about your avoidance problems?" I asked sympathetically.

He breathed heavily through his nose and looked annoyed. "Isabella," he said sternly. _Uh oh. I think I angered the beast._ "Have you contacted anyone so you can start looking at apartments?"

"No," I answered. "I'm always here if you need to talk. If you want to cry," I reached over for the Kleenex, "that's okay, too. You just let it all out."

"Why haven't you talked to anyone yet?"

"It was the weekend," I reminded him. "Can you tell me about your dad?"

"You should talk to someone after we're finished so you can set up an appointment."

"Will do," I said and tapped my fingers on my kneecap. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"I want to continue our discussion about why you lost your ambition and dropped out of college after your father passed away."

"Is that a yes or a no?" I asked, referring to my question.

"Bella," he said, his patience wearing thin. "Will you please cooperate?"

"Why?" I asked in high-pitched voice. "You're not answering my questions, why should I answer yours?"

"I'm a psychologist, and you're not."

I shrugged a shoulder. "Who cares? You look like you need to talk to a friend…or a hug. I can offer either one. Which is it?"

He leaned his head back and sighed.

"A hug it is," I said to myself before I stood up and slinked over to Dr. Cullen.

He stiffened and sat up straight when he saw me approach. I opened my arms and he stared at me as if I had just grown an extra limb.

"Are you going to meet me half way or do I have to close the distance?" I asked, standing in front of his chair, arms stretched out.

He was quiet for a moment, and then he seemed to snap out of his daze and looked past me, to the sofa. "Please sit down, Bella," he requested gently.

"On your lap or back on the couch?"

He cleared his throat. "On the couch."

"You don't want a hug?" I pouted.

"Please," he repeated urgently and motioned to the couch. "Sit down."

I sighed and backed away. "One of these days, Dr. Cullen, you're going to be begging for a hug."

He ignored my comment and I decided to be a good girl and answer his questions. We talked about possible reasons for my sudden lack of interest in accomplishing my dreams after Charlie passed away. We pretty much settled on the fact that I no longer had anyone to live for, and even if I did succeed in my goals, there would be no one to celebrate with. So what was the point?

I gathered my pennies together and dumped them in the front pocket of my cheap eight-dollar purse. As I picked up the last handful, I inspected one that had the year 1980 on it. I smiled to myself as I put the rest of the pennies away, save for that one.

As I stood up, I turned to Dr. Cullen, who was leaning over a file cabinet and searching through manila folders. I walked over to him and tapped his shoulder. He lifted his eyes up to meet mine, but kept his head down low.

"I have something for you," I said.

"What's that?" he asked.

I held out the hand with the penny and he looked at it as if it would come to life and bite him. "Take it," I said. "Charlie once told me that if you find a penny with your birth year on it, to keep it, because it'll bring you good luck. He told me that after Renee died. So I found a penny with 1986 on it one day, and I kept it. I lost it a week before Charlie died. I haven't had a lucky penny since, and to be honest, I haven't searched until today. Since I can't have Charlie or Renee, I want my luck back."

He stood erect and the expression on his face changed from indifference to confliction. He glanced down at my hand and reached for the penny. His fingertips contacted with my palm and my skin tingled. That was odd.

He held the penny in between his fingers and nodded at me once. "Thank you, Bella."

I offered him a small smile before turning away and walking towards the office door. Once my hand touched the knob, I turned back to Dr. Cullen and spoke. "See you on Thursday, Dr. Cullen."

"Have a good week, Bella. And don't forget to search for an apartment."

I nodded and left the room.

******

Monday night was uneventful. I spent most of the time at work staring at the clock, watching the little hand move every sixty seconds. It reminded me of my life. My time was ticking away, minute by minute, and I was getting closer and closer to another hour, but what would happen when it would stroke midnight? Would my time be up? Or would Dr. Cullen fix me and grant me more time?

I spent Tuesday morning exploring apartments with Jakey. I took him along because he would be moving with me, so it was only fair that he got a say in whether or not he'd like it. The first landlady I met said pets weren't allowed, so I just turned and left without explanation.

The second landlady was elderly and kind. She liked Jake, so she had my approval. The apartment she showed me was one bedroom and the wallpaper was peeling and falling apart, small shreds of paper dangled from the walls, bending towards the floors.

There was a lot of dust that accumulated over time. There was a tiny kitchen and a living room/dining area. If I took eight normal steps from the front door and walked straight, I'd reach the other end of the apartment. That was how small it was.

I still had another apartment to look at so I told her I'd give her a call if I chose that one.

The third landlady showed me an apartment that was slightly better than the last. It was a bit bigger and there wasn't any dust, but when we passed the neighbors on the way to the apartment, they smelled like pot and terrible body odor, and a bass was booming in an apartment nearby. It was too noisy and I didn't want to be around smelly people. Personal hygiene was very important.

I wasn't sure if I'd take any of them or if I'd continue looking. Best keep my options open and continue searching.

I went into work on Tuesday night and discovered that the man who kept expecting his wife to show up had died earlier in the afternoon. One of the nurses told me that he looked up at the ceiling minutes before he died and smiled at nothing, but he spoke his wife's name and said she looked beautiful.

It made me wonder if he really did see her waiting on the other side since he was so close to death. Maybe he was right along. Maybe he really would see her again; maybe they were together right this moment, making up for lost time.

So if I died, would I be reunited with my family?

I spent Wednesday morning in a department store, looking for beds or a futon, something to sleep on since I needed stuff for the apartment I'd eventually move into. But the prices turned me away and I knew I couldn't afford it, not if I had to pay for the down payment and first months rent. I'd have to settle for sleeping on the floor for a month or two. That was okay. I'd still have Jake beside me.

******

_Thursday, session six_

"I think I might have found an apartment. There are two that I could get, but I might keep searching. But, either way, I expect to have a place I can call home within a week," I told Dr. Cullen as I stepped inside the office and plopped down on the couch.

"That's great news. I'm proud of you."

I rolled my eyes. "'Cause getting an apartment is so difficult?"

"No." He sat down on his chair and looked at me. "Because you were able to complete a task. You see, Bella, when you need to do something, you _are_ capable of doing it. No one had to threaten you to get you to do it."

"Well," I countered, "you were quite persistent."

"Then I suppose I'll have to be persistent about your 'to do' list."

I looked at him thoughtfully. "You really do want to help me, don't you?"

He nodded his head. "Yes, I do."

"So why not bring me to Dr. Banner?"

He sighed. "Do you still believe you have a tumor?"

"Of course," I replied.

"I want to try something," he said as he stood up and placed his pad of paper down on the desk.

"Are we going to hug now?"

He ignored me and reached for his jacket draped over the back of the chair in front of the desk. "How about we take a walk? Maybe it'll be easier for you to talk to me when we're not in the office."

"Why do you think that?"

"You were much more open the last time we had a walk outside." He slipped his jacket on. "I'm curious to see if you're more comfortable in an everyday setting, so it appears as though you are speaking to a friend and not a psychologist."

"Is that allowed?" I asked the same question within a week.

He zipped up his jacket. "Why not?"

I shrugged a shoulder. "Okay, then." I stood up and walked in the door but he stopped me from opening it.

"Where's your jacket?" he asked.

"I didn't bring one."

"Why not?"

I sighed and turned around to look up at him. He was standing only couple inches away and he practically towered over me. "I don't have one," I admitted.

He looked taken back. "It's the beginning of November."

"Yes, I'm aware."

"And you don't own a jacket or a coat?"

I shook my head. "I just have my summer clothes. I sold all of my winter clothes in a garage sale a couple weeks before Jessica kicked me out. I was going to buy a whole new wardrobe with the money, but then I found myself homeless, so I used the money for more substantial things."

That conflicting look crossed his features again, the same one I saw on Monday.

He sighed and unzipped his jacket. So I guess we were staying in after all. Just as I was about to return to the couch, he halted my movement by holding an arm out and then moved to stand behind me.

I felt his jacket wrap around me, and I spun around, surprised. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"I don't want you to be cold," he replied.

I stared at him incredulously. "But what about you?"

"I'll survive." He motioned for me to walk out of the office.

"Are you sure?" I asked him, refusing to move. "Here." I began to remove the jacket. "Take it back. It's yours."

He held a hand up. "No. I want you to wear it."

I was pretty sure that there was an unspoken rule about psychologists and their patients trading clothes. "Look, while this is very chivalrous of you, I can walk outside without a jacket. I walked here without one and I'll walk to work without one."

His lips tugged down.

"What?" I asked.

"Why haven't you bought a jacket?"

"I can't afford it," I replied. "Especially not now. I can't afford anything other than food or rent for at least another month."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I want you to keep my jacket until you can afford one," he said simply.

"What? No, I can't do that."

"You can," he assured. "What kind of a man would I be if I let a young woman walk around in Chicago freezing to death?"

"A normal one," I muttered underneath my breath.

He gestured for me to move to the door.

"So, you still want to go out there? Even if you'll be cold?"

"I'll do whatever it takes to make you better," he replied.

I froze and looked at him. No one had ever said that to me before. He really was determined to figure out what was wrong with me. I wondered if he was like that to his non-patients? I found myself wondering more and more about him. It wasn't fair that he knew so much about me and I knew absolutely nothing about him. Other than the fact that he was a young psychologist and had a niece around the same age as him.

Dr. Cullen and I took a stroll in the park. He had his hands stuffed inside his jeans and I pulled my hands inside the sleeve of his jacket. My shoulders were practically up to my ears and I kept peeking up at him and feeling guilty about possibly causing him to get sick. I wondered if I had enough money to buy him some cold medicine. If I become the cause for his pending runny nose, fever and hacking cough, I'd at least have to take care of the man. It was only fair.

I did feel more at ease talking to him while we walked around instead of sitting in that stuffy and dreadfully plain office. It felt normal. Natural. I even managed to get him to smile a few times. We were making a break through in cracking the mysterious case of Dr. Edward Cullen.

"Aren't you going to jot my thoughts down?" I asked as I walked off balance and bumped my shoulder against his arm.

He playfully nudged me back. "It's stored up here." He pointed at his forehead.

"Oh, really? What did I say seven minutes ago? Verbatim."

One side of his lips quirked up and his eyes darted down to meet mine. The air got stuck in my throat and my stomach did an odd flip flop thing, like the feeling one got while barreling down the first steep hill on a roller coaster. Maybe I was hungry or the fresh air was doing strange things to my body.

"Seven minutes ago," he mused quietly. He glanced behind us and his eyes lingered on a tree that we had passed five times already. "We were just walking past that tree, the one beside the bench, and you giggled over Jessica finding Jake hiding in the laundry basket before she screamed and tripped on the edge of her pants and fell backwards on the floor."

I turned my eyes to the trail ahead as I smiled. "She always hated him, but he was never very fond of her either."

We continued talking for a couple more minutes before we had to turn around and head back towards the building.

"You were actually kinda cool today," I told him as we stepped inside his office and I shrugged off his jacket.

"Please keep the jacket," he insisted.

I sighed. "Do you have more?"

He nodded.

"Okay," I said reluctantly. "But only because you won't be walking around the windy streets of Chicago without a jacket. I will be returning this, by the way."

He reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a penny. "I'm keeping your penny, so I want you to keep my jacket."

"This jacket is only worth a penny?" I stared at it like it was covered in filth. "Must not be a very good jacket."

He smiled for the fifth time in one day.

After our session, I returned to the shelter and Angela complimented the jacket. It was then that I discovered it was worth close to 280 dollars.


	5. Week Four

Thank you all for the reviews.

**Chapter Five – Week Four**

_Monday, session seven_

"Good afternoon!" I bounced into the office.

"You're in a good mood," Dr. Cullen said from his desk.

"Yep." I looked him over. His reddish brown hair was tussled and unruly, he wore a gray vest with a long sleeved white dress shirt and black silk die underneath. As he stood up, I noticed he was wearing expensive looking suit pants. "You look hot." I clapped my hand over my mouth. "I mean, no, not hot. I meant to say, you kinda look like Dr. Spencer Reid on Criminal Minds, and I think he's hot. I don't think you're hot."

He quirked an eyebrow.

"Okay, you don't really look like Reid," I began rambling again. "But you have this sophisticated look, and a person could glance over and tell you're really intelligent. And Reid, he's like a genius. So, yeah, physically you don't really look like him, but you do kind of have similar lips, though I think his are a bit fuller. Not that your lips are too thin, because they're not. They're nice lips, but I mean, you have a Reid essence about you. He's hot and intelligent, so comparing you to him, that's like a compliment, because that means you're hot and intelligent." I winced. "No, not hot. I can't say that. You're handsome. You have this-"

"Bella," he interrupted me, amusement shinning in his eyes. "I get it."

"Sorry. I have this disorder. I'm a self-diagnosed idiot." I moved to sit on the couch, but then noticed he was reaching for his jacket. Ah. Another outdoor adventure with Dr. Cullen and the loony patient.

He shot me a disapproved look. "Don't call yourself an idiot."

"A rambling dork?" I compromised.

The corner of his lips tugged up, showing off a crooked grin. "Perhaps."

I gaped at him. "Hey! You're supposed to be boosting my confidence here. Where's the flattery? The pearls of wisdom to better myself?"

"I'm all out of that." He sighed and pretended to look sympathetic.

"Ah well." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, to the door. "We going out?"

"Would you prefer to stay in?" I could tell he already knew the answer.

I turned and opened the door.

"Thought so," he said, following me close behind.

"I was so depressed this morning," I started.

"Does your depression often transform into giddiness?"

I rolled my eyes as we stepped into the elevator. "I was brushing my teeth this morning, right after I woke up, and I guess I was thinking really hard about something, but then I glanced up at my reflection, and I saw this." I raised my eyebrows as high as they would go.

Dr. Cullen looked at me as though I had grown an extra head.

"Look." I pointed at my forehead. "Wrinkles!"

He was still looking at me as though I were insane.

"Okay, well, they're not major, but the sides of my forehead crunch up a bit. I never noticed it before. Next, I will have wrinkle lines across my whole forehead. Women don't like wrinkles. We like to look youthful."

Dr. Cullen chuckled. "You're twenty-two. You _are_ youthful."

The elevator door opened, and we stepped into the hallway. I turned to him. "Look at the sides of my mouth. One side, completely smooth, but the other, there's a soft laugh line. I'm going to be one of those people with a prominent laugh line on one side of their face."

He laughed and led me outside.

"And when I squint my eyes," I continued, "There aren't any wrinkles, but I give it a year, tops, before I start to see crows feet when I squint."

"How did you go from being completely devastated by wrinkles to literally hopping into my office?"

"Well, like I said, women like to look young. I've never looked my age, I've always looked younger. No one believes me when I say I'm twenty-two because apparently I look around sixteen or seventeen, but when I noticed the years were catching up to me, it was like, major freak out!"

I was about to walk straight into a woman with large fur coat, but Dr. Cullen wrapped his arm around my waist and moved me out of the way. When the lady passed, he let go of me.

"God." I laughed. "I was like gravitating towards her."

He shook his head, amused.

"So, yeah, anyway, then I started thinking, 'hey. I'm getting older, and that's a good thing. My mom never got the chance to experience wrinkles. And wrinkles and aging, it's apart of life, and I'm lucky to have gotten this far.' So I was celebrating my life on my way here."

He grinned crookedly. "Your life is something to celebrate."

I playfully pushed on his shoulder. "Whatever, cheeseball."

I openingly stared at the woman eating an ice cream cone. In November. In Chicago. I shivered.

"Cold?" Dr. Cullen looked ready to strip off his jacket and give me another.

I shook my head. "No, I just can't imagine eating ice cream in this weather."

"I used to," he said. "As a kid."

I stared up at him.

He stared down at me. "Yes?"

"I can't imagine you as a kid. Were you one of those baby geniuses who could read at the age of two? I bet you were. Your parents probably made you listen to Mozart and read you complicated poetry out loud."

He looked away briefly. I had the feeling I said something wrong.

"So," I said, wanting to change the subject. "You thirsty?"

"Coffee sound good?" he asked.

I stuck my tongue out. "Hot chocolate for me."

"Not a coffee drinker, huh?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I'm like a big kid. I love hot chocolate with marshmallows. It reminds me of…" I trailed off.

Dr. Cullen wasn't going to let it go. "What does it remind you off?"

"Christmas." I shrugged. "I don't know. When I drink hot chocolate with marshmallows in a coffee mug, I picture a Christmas tree and bright lights, and Christmas music, and fluffy snow falling to the ground outside. But none of that means much without a family."

We continued walking along the sidewalk, until Dr. Cullen pulled me into a shop and ordered himself a coffee, and a hot chocolate for me, with marshmallows. I bit my bottom lip to prevent from grinning like the Cheshire _Cat. _

We sat down at a table and I blew on my hot chocolate.

"You know, Bella," he began, sitting across from me, "You can continue seeing me after our twenty sessions."

My eyes lifted up to his. "As a patient? Or…?"

He took a sip of his coffee and lowered his eyes. "We should keep it professional."

"Yeah," I whispered, staring down at my hot chocolate.

Suddenly an imagine popped into my head. "Oh, hey, I have a hot date with your niece after I'm finished with you, before I go to work."

His eyes lifted up, surprised. "Is that so?"

"Mmhmm." I nodded.

He sat up straight. "May I ask what your intentions are?"

"Well." I folded my hands in front of me on the table. "I plan to get her fall-face-down-on-the-floor-drunk and bring her back to my place for some fun."

He choked on his coffee.

"Sorry." I smiled.

"Still living in the shelter?" he asked.

I frowned. "Yeah, I haven't decided which apartment I want yet."

"You should decide soon."

"Why the rush?" I asked.

He shrugged a shoulder. "I worry about you in that place."

"It's safe," I assured.

"Please." He gave me a look I couldn't resist. "Find a place soon."

I sighed. "I don't really like any of them. None of them feel like home, but I know I can't afford to be picky."

We finished our drinks and headed back outside. The conversation was lighter and I teased him about the wrinkles on his forehead when he raised his eyebrows. He didn't mind. But then he said his wrinkles were more attractive than mine, so I shoved him, and he gently nudged me back, and somehow we ended back at the office, both of breath, laughing and talking a million miles per minute.

"I like talking to you," I said, walking Edward up to his office.

He was silent for a moment, looking deep in thought. "That's what you come here for." It seemed like he was trying to get a point across. "It's professional," he said mostly to himself.

"I know."

He stepped out of the elevator, but then paused and spun around. "You're not walking to the restaurant, are you?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

"Tanya," Dr. Cullen shouted. "Tell Mr. Newton to wait for me in my office."

"Yes, sir," she called back.

I looked questioningly at Dr. Cullen as he stepped back into the elevator.

"What are you doing?"

"Dropping you off on your date." He grinned.

"My legs work, you know."

"So does my car."

"I need exercise."

"You need warmth." He lowered his voice, "You need someone to take care of you."

"I've managed this far on my own."

"And now it's time to accept help."

I sighed. "Dr. Cullen, no one wants to take care of me, okay? No one ever will. That's just the way it is for me. I'm alone, and I will always be alone."

"I don't accept that answer, Miss Swan."

I folded my arms across my chest. "You always make me feel like a child."

He looked down at me. "That is not my intention."

We arrived back on the first floor. He followed me out.

"My car is in the garage," he said, leading me in the opposite direction I was headed.

I reluctantly followed him. "Yes, dad."

"Why are you upset?"

I glared at him. "Because you're showing me things I can't have!"

He stopped and turned to face me.

"I told you, I don't have anyone. And you walk around outside with me, buy me hot chocolate, laugh with me, joke with me, talk to me about anything I want, give me jackets, offer to drive me places…" Tears pooled in my eyes. "You're reminding me that when I leave this building, I go back to having nothing, and all I can look forward to is our sessions."

He stepped closer. "Bella-"

"Forget it." I pushed past him, into the garage. "Which one is yours?"

He led me across the lot, to a silver Volvo.

"You're married, aren't you?"

"What?" He stared down at me, confused.

"You drive a Volvo."

"Volvo's don't equal marriage."

"They don't equal bachelor, either."

"I guess I'm breaking the rules then," he said as he opened the passenger door for me.

He closed the door and walked around to the drivers side.

"Does that mean you're single?" I asked.

He started the ignition. "Yes. I am."

"Why?"

He looked at me. "Why am I single?"

I nodded. "You seem like the relationship sort of guy."

"I am," he confirmed quietly.

"Sorry. I forgot. We only talk about me. Never you."

He sighed. "Bella, I'm your-"

"Psychologist," I finished. "We're going to Wendy's."

He did a double take. "Wendy's? That's where my niece is taking you?"

"Well, I refused her offer to pay, so, yes. All I can afford is fast food. I'm sorry it's beneath you."

He ran a hand through his hair. "It's not beneath me. I just prefer Arby's."

I tried not to smile.

"We're here," he said.

"Thank you for the ride. I'll see you on Thursday."

"Bella," he stopped me. "I'm sorry for upsetting you."

I waved a hand. "I'm resilient. Don't worry about me."

I exited the car and looked back at Dr. Cullen as I waved and he waved back. I shut the door and entered the gorgeous facility known as Wendy's.

******

Alice sat on the opposite end of the booth. "What time do you have to be at work?"

"In about forty-five minutes."

"Is it close?"

"Oh, yeah. Just a couple blocks away."

I picked at my fries. "So, tell me how Edward is your uncle. There must be a large age gap between him and his brother."

"Well, actually, if you want to get technical, he's my uncle _and_ my brother."

My hand froze and I dropped the fry. "Ew?"

She rolled her eyes. "No incest was involved."

I pushed my food away, having lost my appetite. "Explain."

"My dad is Carlisle, Edward's older brother, but they're only half brothers. Not full."

"Still not seeing how that makes Edward both your uncle and brother." I paused. "Oh, wait, ew, you're about to say that since your dad is only Edward's half brother, your dad slept with Edward's half sister, who isn't at all related to your dad, and they created baby Edward?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Uh, no."

"Okay, so your dad is Edward's brother-"

"Half brother. Edward's mom is my biological grandmother."

"Your dad is Edward's _half_ brother," I corrected. "They have the same mom, different dads."

She gave me a thumbs up sign.

"You're going to have to tell the rest of the story. I'm not going to play the guessing game."

She stole a fry from me and dipped it into her frosty before putting it in her mouth. "My grandma is Elizabeth, and when she was 16 or 17, she married my biological grandpa, Liam Cullen, and they had my dad. But when my dad was a teenager, grandpa passed away. He died before I was born. So my grandma, she grieved for a long time, but then she met Edward."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Masen," she explained quickly. "Edward Masen."

"Is he…?"

She nodded once. "Edward's daddy? Yep."

"But Dr. Cullen has the same last name as you."

She pointed a fry at me. "That's where the brother part comes in. When Edward, or as you call him, Dr. Cullen, was just four years old, Grandma and Edward Masen died, and since my dad was an adult and married to my mom, Esme, and they had enough money to start a family, they took him in. Adopted him."

"And they changed his last name to Cullen?"

She shook her head. "Not right away. They wanted Edward to keep the name Masen, since he was Edward Senior's only child. So he could, you know, keep the family name alive, I guess."

I pursed my lips. "So what happened?"

"Well, my mom didn't know it at the time, but she was pregnant with me when they took Edward in. So not long after Edward arrived, he found himself living with a blooming Cullen family. Mr. Cullen, Mrs. Cullen and baby girl Cullen. He was the only Masen. I don't think it bothered him until he was in first grade. His class had a field trip, and the kids handed in their permission slips, and the teacher looked through them, but she saw a name she didn't recognize. The last name Cullen. So she asked whose parent signed it. I guess Edward was embarrassed or sad or something because all of the other kids had the same last name as their parents. I heard he came home angry and upset, and not long after, his last name was changed to Cullen, by his request."

"Oh," I whispered softly, nearly inaudible to my own ears. I felt like a bitch. I pestered him about why he didn't have any family photos and asked if he had daddy issues. Of course he did. His dad was also his brother. He probably got a lot of crap for it as he grew up.

She shrugged a shoulder. "We all have a past."

I picked at my food at again.

"What's that?" she asked.

"What?"

"That piece of paper sticking out of your purse." She nodded her head to the opened purse on the table beside me, my list was poking out.

"Oh." I tucked the list in and zipped my purse. "Just a list of things I want to accomplish before I die."

She sucked on a fry for a moment. "Is that going to happen anytime soon? The dying bit?"

I nodded my head. "Oh, yes. Right now, actually. You have to clean up the remains, because I'm about to spontaneously combust. You have an uncle who is a brother, but my family also has a secret, we all mystery die at the age of 22, on the same day, at the same time."

"Awesome." She chewed on her fry. "Explosions are cool."

"Totally."

"So, really, are you dying?" Her tone was serious now.

I shrugged a shoulder. "We all die someday."

She nodded her head absentmindedly. "What's on the list?"

"Mmm, a bunch of things. Bungee jumping. Skydiving. Take a roadtrip-"

She squealed and clapped her hands together.

"Oh, my God, what?" I panicked.

"Want to cross something off your list?" She asked with wide, joyful eyes.

"You gonna take me skydiving?"

"Go down one."

"Roadtrip?"

She did the thumbs up thing again.

"Where we going? LA? Mexico?"

She held a finger up and dug through her purse. "New York."

"What's in New York?"

"People, buildings…"

I gasped. "No way!"

She pulled out her blackberry, clicked on a few things, and then turned it around so I could see the screen. "See that?"

I leaned over the table. It was a log cabin. "No, I'm blind."

"That," she said, ignoring me, "is where I have to be this weekend. It's our family cabin in upstate New York, we used to go there every summer when Edward and I were kids, but no one has stayed in it for years. My dad and mom are in Greece right now, on vacation, but there's a guy who wants to look at it and possibly buy it from us this weekend. Dad won't be back in time, so I'm going to drive up there."

"Drive? You know, there's this invention called a plane, it flies in the air and gets you to your destination much faster than a car ever could."

"Damn," she muttered. "You should have told me sooner. Dad and mom had to spend weeks traveling by boat to Greece, getting seasick and fighting storms." She stuffed her blackberry back into her purse. "I'm driving because I have to bring a shitload of stuff back with me. We have a lot of pictures and other personal effects still in there. We're leaving the furniture, but we want our bikes, dishes and all that other stuff. So I'm going to rent a Uhaul and I'll just attach it to the back of my car once we get to New York."

"Mmm." I nodded. "Wait. We?"

She made puppy dog eyes. "Well, it's a very long drive, and I hate being by myself. It'd be nice to have company, to keep me awake during the night, so I don't fall asleep, crash and die."

"How do you know I'm not some psycho who'll use you to perform a ritual killing when you're asleep and defenseless?"

She gathered our left over food on the tray, ready to leave so we could both return to work. "Because you're not."

"How do you know?" I persisted.

"Intuition."

"I thought you were going to try that, 'I'm psychic' crap on me again." We both stood up, I grabbed my purse and she grabbed the tray, her purse around slung over her shoulder.

"No." She dumped the food into the trash. "I'm not psychic, but I do have very good intuition and I can tell a lot about a person as soon as I meet them. Like whether or not they're good…or evil."

I held the door open for her, and we both walked outside. "What am I?"

"You," she paused to look at me, "you're good."

I walked her to her car. "Drive safe," I told her.

She opened the driver's side. "You're coming with me to New York, aren't you?"

I had nothing better to do. "When are you leaving?"

"Um." She thought for a moment. "Probably Thursday morning or early afternoon."

I shook my head. "I have work, and I have an appointment with your uncle on Thursday."

"I can handle my uncle." She pulled her phone out. "Can't you call off?"

I sighed. "I guess I could call one of the girls and ask if she'd switch with me so she'd work Thursday and Friday, and I'd fill in for her next weekend."

Alice beamed brightly. "Perfect."

I held a hand up. "She has to agree first."

"Get in." She shut her door.

I stood there, staring at her through the window. "What?"

She rolled her window down. "Get in. I'm driving you to work. I'm not letting you walk in this weather."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm starting to see the resemblance between you and Dr. Cullen." I walked around the car and got into the passenger seat.

"Call your friend, and I'll call Edward."

"Wait." I buckled my seatbelt. "Let me confirm before you call him."

"Hurry."

"Geez. So pushy." I pulled out my phone and called Kate. The called only lasted a minute, and she willingly agreed. She'd work Thursday to Sunday, and next week I'd work all seven days, so she wouldn't have to work next weekend.

Alice started dialing before I could even hang up. "I'm kidnapping your patient," she greeted. "The Swan girl. She's going with me to New York." I could hear his voice on the other line, but I didn't know what he was saying. It sounded like gibberish.

Alice sighed. "She can't right now." She paused. "Because her hands are tied and there's a gag in her mouth."

My eyes widened and I scooted closer to the car door.

She sighed again. "I guess I could take the gag out." She shoved the phone at me. "He wants to talk to you."

I grabbed the phone. "Your niece is scaring me."

"She has that effect on people," Dr. Cullen replied. "You're going to New York?"

"Well, I don't seem to have much of a choice. She said she'd fall asleep and die while driving, so…"

He sighed. "Are you canceling our next session?"

"Uh, kinda, yeah."

"You have to attend at least twenty sessions before I report back to Dr. Banner, so that'll take us to a total of ten and a half weeks together. You good with that?"

"Sure, no problem." I winced. I sounded too cherry. "So, I have a question."

"Hmm?"

"Your niece, the one holding me captive, should I be worried about her?" I peeked over at her and lowered my voice, though I knew she could still hear me. "I mean, this is the second time I met her and we're already escaping on a weekend trip together. She moves kinda fast, doesn't she?"

He chuckled. "Alice has either acquaintances or best friends, nothing in between. If you were an acquaintance on Halloween, you're now a best friend."

"So everyone she meets instantly becomes a best friend?"

"No, not exactly." I heard movement on the other end, and I imagined him pacing around in his office. "She doesn't offer the position often."

"Mmm." I glanced back at Alice. "I'm either very lucky, or very…not."

Alice started the car and pulled out towards the nursing home.

Edward laughed in my ear. "You'll know the answer by the end of the weekend, I suppose."

"So, is this cool?"

"What?"

"Befriending your niece? You're my psychologist. Even if it is only temporary."

He sighed. "We're not permitted to have a personal relationship, and morally speaking, I shouldn't treat a friend of the family, but as long as certain boundaries remain, we should be fine."

"Why is that?" I chewed on my fingernail. "Why can't a psychologist know a patient on a personal level?"

"It's about ethics," he explained. "You rely on me to help you, to be there for you, to listen to you. If we entered into a…personal relationship, not only would I be abusing my power, but if emotions were to cloud my judgment and I couldn't be there for you professionally, you'd feel violated and betrayed. The relationship between a doctor and patient varies, depending on numerous circumstances. With most patients, I wouldn't approach them at a social gathering or take our sessions outside in an everyday setting, but the difference is between you and them. I have to calculate their fears and wants, and how that'd affect our professional relationship."

"And you're confident I'd be okay with more…intimacy?" I cringed at the last word. Was intimacy an appropriate thing to say?

"You're unlikely to become confused or disturbed with our unique way of communicating." He was silent for a moment. "But I do think I may have crossed certain lines today, and I should tread a bit more carefully."

I was confused. "What lines did you cross?"

I heard another voice in the distance. "Would you like to continue this discussion next Monday? I have a patient coming in."

"Oh, yeah, sure."

"Have a good day, Bella. I'll see you next week."

"You too. Bye." I hung up the phone and held it to my chest for a moment.

"Ahem."

_Oh! _I turned to see Alice staring at me expectantly, and then I took in our surroundings. She was parked in front of the nursing home. I handed her the phone.

"So, what sort of _intimacies _are going on between you and my uncle slash brother?"

I flushed. "Nothing."

"Mmhmm." She wasn't buying it. "Are you having office sex?"

My mouth gaped open. "What the hell? No!"

"I don't know many patients who are on such friendly terms with their doctors."

"I have to go to work now." I pulled on the handle and stepped outside.

"Pack a bag and be ready Thursday morning!" she shouted as I headed towards the entrance of my workplace.

I waved a hand without looking back.

******

It was just after 1pm on Thursday, and we were still in Chicago. I could have gone to my session with Dr. Cullen if I had known Alice would take this long to get around.

She picked me up at the shelter around 9am, and then we drove to her place. She was still wearing her pajamas, so she had to get dressed and told me to "make myself at home". I wondered why she couldn't just leave me at the shelter until she was ready, but I didn't ask. Her explanation probably wouldn't make much sense anyway. If it were possible, I'd say she was crazier than me. No wonder Dr. Cullen had been able to put up with me. Growing up with someone like Alice was sure to make a person adjustable to all kinds of crazies.

We didn't leave her apartment until noon, and then she wanted to see the building I was thinking of moving into. The moment we stepped inside, she grabbed by arm and said, "No. You're not living here."

So we argued for an hour, and she said her rent would be much more manageable if she had a roommate. I drew the line there. Befriending my psychologist's niece/sister was one thing, but living with her? That was too much. Alice pleaded, but I protested. She grumbled and pulled into a gas station, which was where we were now.

I grabbed a bottle of water and wandered over to the maps, searching for one that would take us from Chicago to upstate New York.

"What are you doing?" Alice came up behind me.

"Looking for a map," I replied without looking at her.

"This isn't the 90's, Bella. I have GPS."

I sighed. "I don't like technology. It makes humans lazy." I grabbed the map. "I'm buying this."

I paid for the water and map, and followed Alice out to the car. She slid in, pulled out her GPS device and stuck it onto the dashboard.

She smiled at me. "I'm about going to go New Age on your ass. Meet Lola."

**Hours Later**

"What the fuck?! She said to turn left, and I turned left, but I'm not seeing the correct sign! And what the fuck is she saying now? Veer right?! I can't! There _is_ no right! What does she want me to do? Drive into the damn river?"

I sighed. "I told you, you should've stuck with me and my old school ways. Lilly's all messed up."

"Shush, and her name is Lola, not Lilly."

"Think it notices the difference?"

"_She_," she corrected.

"Well, _she_ is effing psychotic because she's trying to drown us in the river." I squinted my eyes at the GPS. "Oh my God."

"What?"

"Lena is probably possessed by some evil spirit. Like Chuckie."

"What are you on? Chuckie was a doll, not a GPS navigator," she shot back. "And who the fuck names their GPS Lena? She's Lola."

"Who the hell names their GPS _anything_? It's an object, not a he or a she. It's an it!"

She peeked at me from the corner of her eye and mumbled to herself. "No wonder Lola's feeling homicidal."

"Can we turn this _thing_ off and look at the map? We're stuck in some small ass town that's probably filled with inbreeds, and once they discover we're unrelated to them, they'll kidnap us and use us to help them reproduce normal looking babies." I pulled out my map. "I don't trust that devil reincarnation you call Leila."

"Yes, let's insult the townspeople," Alice said. "That'll help." She paused. "And leave Lola out of this."

I opened the map across my lap. "Tell Lola to stop contemplating murder and I'll stop taking jabs at her."

"Stop making fun of her and maybe she'd stop trying to kill us."

"Okay." I trailed my finger along our current path and tried to dig ourselves out of here. "Keep going straight, and when you get to the crossroads, turn left."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

I waved a hand. "Please. How difficult can reading a map be?"

**Thirty Minutes Later**

"How difficult can reading a map be," Alice mimicked. "Well, let's see. We're about forty miles _off _course, and now it's getting dark, and we don't know where civilization is!"

We had ignored Lola for awhile and followed my directions, but after we realized I gave horrible instructions, we went back to listening to Lola. She was now correcting our mistakes and having us double back.

"Hey, the first few miles were your fault." I folded my arms across my chest. "You said you'd been to New York by car before."

"Yeah," Alice shouted, "When I was _fourteen_. Do you think I was driving back then?" She didn't give me time to answer. "No. I don't think so."

"You were still in the car!"

"Sleeping! Or munching on slim-jims and rocking out to Nsync. I wasn't paying attention to the damn directions."

I couldn't suppress the laughter.

"Now what?"

"Nsync?"

She groaned.

"How do you _rock out _to Nsync?" I made the rocker hand gesture and bobbed my head. "Bye Bye Bye!"

She rolled her eyes. "You were, what, twelve at the time? Don't tell me you weren't a fan of the boy bands. I don't believe that."

"No, I was. But I preferred Backstreet Boys. They could totally kick Nsync's ass."

"Dream on."

"Hey, the Backstreet Boys are still together, whereas your Nsync group is scattered all over the place."

"Justin Timberlake is far more successful than Nick Carter," she insisted.

I pursed my lips. "I never really was a Nick Carter fan. I liked Brian."

She grinned. "I liked Lance. That blonde hair, those cat green eyes and southern charm. Mmm."

"I saw an old music video by the Backstreet Boys and my mouth literally dropped open when I saw Kevin. I didn't realize he was so hot when I was a kid. He was just so much older to me, back then."

"Oh, I know," she whispered. "He's fucking dreamy."

"Why are you whispering?" I whispered.

"I'm trying to see where I'm going," she replied in a quiet voice.

"I didn't know normal speaking voices blocked your view." I made sure to keep my voice down low, didn't want to distort the road.

She reached over and playfully swatted my shoulder. "Shut up," she giggled.

I laughed at her and pushed her hand away before I noticed something very, very wrong. "Alice!"

"What?" she shouted and looked at me, alarmed.

The dirt road ended abruptly and there was a small hill going down, and the headlights revealed a tree.

"There's a-"

The front of the car rammed into the tree.

"Tree," I whimpered.

"Shit!" She slammed her hands on the steering wheel. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

I rubbed my sore neck. The seatbelt had dug into my skin when the car plowed downhill and hit the tree. "How about - reverse, reverse, reverse!?"

She put the car in reverse, but we weren't moving.

"Alice whatever-your-middle-name-is Cullen! You did _not _just get us stranded out here!"

She cringed at the windshield. "Oops."

******

"Lola told me to!" Alice said with her hands held up as I glared at her.

We were walking along the narrow road in some creepy town in the middle of night, searching for life. "Yeah, well, Lola is a freaking sociopath and she's so close to becoming shark food."

"Don't say that about her!"

"What's she gonna do? Jump out of the car and slither over to me so she can pound me on the head? She's an effing inanimate object!"

Alice stopped and grasped my arm. She pointed at something in the distance. "Light!"

I followed her gaze and saw a group of old style buildings in the distance. "You think there are living, breathing people there?"

She turned her head to look at me. "No, the dead like to burn the midnight oil," she deadpanned.

We raced towards the buildings, and the closer we got, we realized the light was coming from a bar. Well, on the plus side, we'd at least get a drink out of this.

"What if they're all old and horny?" Alice shuddered as we approached the doors.

We stepped inside, and it looked normal. There were a couple of guys sitting at the bar, a few more sitting at tables, and three playing pool.

"Afraid they're gonna lock us in and vamp out on us? I don't see any signs of strippers, so we're good."

Alice gave me a perplexed look.

"God. Ever hear of George Clooney?"

She lifted her arm up and was speechless for a moment, making a weird face. "What the hell does George Clooney have to do with-" She paused and her eyes darkened. "Whoa. Well, _heeello_."

I furrowed my brows and turned to see a man in his mid-twenties standing and talking to the bartender. He had a good build and wore tight jeans and a cowboy hat, strands of blonde hair peaked out from beneath it.

I wrinkled my nose. "We have enough problems on our plate. You don't need to add an STD on top of it."

She licked her lips. "Honey, I'd gladly suffer the burning for a roll in the sack with _that_."

"I'm starting to regret the decision to be big girls and fend for ourselves by wandering out into the wild to search for human life forms instead of waiting in the car and just calling for help," I muttered. "We probably could've called your uncle. He'd would've-"

Alice moved forward, towards the cowboy.

I slapped my palm over my forehead and ran my fingers through my hair before digging into my purse and retrieving my cell phone. After pressing a couple buttons, I put the speaker to my ear and listened to the ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hi there, Dr. Cullen. We kinda have a problem."

**EDWARD**

"Have you ever felt yourself crossing boundaries with your patients?" I slumped on the couch in my apartment, undid my tie and placed my glass of scotch on a coaster.

Emmett raided my fridge as he called out to me. "There's a thin line between appropriate compassion and inappropriate feelings."

I leaned my head back against the cushion and squeezed my eyes shut. "I think I've ventured into the inappropriate feelings section for a young adult female patient of mine." I rubbed the stubble of my chin. "I'm stuck between ignoring the personal connection I feel with her, or referring her to someone else."

Emmett appeared, holding a sandwich in one hand, and a beer bottle in the other. "Listen, man, this is your first year without supervision." He sat down opposite me, on the loveseat. "Sometimes feelings get mixed up. You may be over-analyzing what you're actually feeling. It could be nothing more than sympathy and compassion. The first year is the roughest."

I breathed out through my nose and shook my head. "I'm picking up on her habits. I'm becoming fascinated with…_her_."

Emmett took a swig of his beer. "Picking up on her habits how?"

"She's…eccentric. Snarky. Playful."

He looked at me hard and long. "And you're playing back?"

I felt the guilt crush down one me. She was a patient, she came to me for help. My recent behavior was enough to alarm the board.

Emmett took my silence as affirmation. "How has she been responding to you? Are you picking up on any romantic vibes?"

"A bit." I grabbed my scotch and downed the remains. "She avoided cooperating appropriately when she first started seeing me. She never had a problem telling me how she felt, that I annoyed her." I stood up to refill my glass. "She doesn't feel that way anymore."

"You don't annoy her?"

"Apparently not." I took another long gulp, and refilled the glass, again.

"Can you handle it?"

I clenched my jaw. "Em, when we walking along the streets in the city during our last session, I completely forgot she was a patient. I was out with a friend." I took another drink.

"Some advice?"

I nodded once.

"Transfer her. You don't owe her an explanation. Just tell her you can't treat her anymore."

I ran my fingers through my hair. "I'm reluctant. I don't know if anyone else can handle her."

He laughed and shook his head. "Come on, man. You're not the only psychologist in the building. Some of 'em have been doing this since before you were born."

I set the glass down. I knew my limits.

"Unless the real issue at hand is you're not willing to let her go."

I moved back to the couch. "Don't be ridiculous."

"So what's the problem? You refer her to another doctor, and you both continue on with your separate lives."

I bowed my head and rested my elbows on my thighs. "I made her a deal. Promised twenty sessions. I do her sessions for free. I can't…" I shook my head. "I'll push the confusion aside." I cleared my throat and raised my head, more confident and determined. "I can block it out. I can do this."

Emmett sighed and switched on the TV. "If you pursue a relationship with her, planned or otherwise, you'd lose your license."

"I don't intend on it."

"Shit happens, man." There was a moment of silence between us, only the sounds coming from the television filling the room. "When's your next session?"

"Monday."

"How about this – I'll sit and observe for a few minutes. Get a feel of the atmosphere so I can witness this for myself. It'd make my opinion that much more meaningful."

"I don't know how she'd feel about that. She'd probably hold back."

"Do you want honest advice?"

I sighed. "All right. Monday, then."

A thirty minute period passed before Emmett spoke up. "You know, all psychologists practice in their own way, whichever way they feel is the most affective and best for their patients, and maybe the way you're going about this female patient is causing these inappropriate feelings. You said you take her out of the building, place her in a normal setting. That could be it, man. You're out of the office, talking to a woman, it's a false sense of causality. There is nothing causal about treating a patient. It requires your full attention for the entire hour. You need to focus on the task, and taking her out, it's transformed into something personal."

I sat in silence, my eyes locked on the TV, but not really watching.

"You need to get out." He stood and grabbed his empty beer bottles. "Go to a club, relax, meet some women, get laid." He threw the bottles in the trash.

"Not my scene."

"What is your scene? Flirting with unstable patients?"

My eyes shot to his.

He immediately looked as though he regretted his choice of words. "That was uncalled for," he muttered. "I blame it on the alcohol."

"She's not unstable," my voice took on a defensive tone.

"Man." He shook his head. "Let's drop it. We're both a bit drunk."

I stood up and reached for the remote, shutting off the TV. "I think I'm going to call it a night."

"Yeah, me too." He patted his pockets for his keys. "I'll see you in the morning."

I nodded at him.

He turned and left, heading down the hall towards his apartment, which was only a few doors over.

I shut off the lights and entered my bedroom, removing my watch along the way. I placed it on the night stand beside my cell phone, which suddenly buzzed and vibrated. I picked it up with furrowed brows.

"Hello?"

"Hi there, Dr. Cullen. We kinda have a problem."

My spine stiffened. "Miss Swan?"

"Yes," came the delicate reply on the other line.

"Are you okay? Where's Alice?"

I could clearly hear male voices in the background. "Have you ever had the pleasure of being introduced to Lola?"

"What?" I sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Alice's GPS device. That thing almost killed us."

I couldn't contain the rapid beating of my heart. "Where are you? Is Alice okay?"

"We're fine. Both alive. No missing limbs or serious injuries. But we did crash into a tree."

My fingers clawed through my hair and I snapped my eyes closed. "What happened?"

"Well, Lola told us to stay on a road, only it had a dead end, and we didn't know it, and the road disappeared, and the tree appeared. The car is stuck because there was a hill that led to the tree, and we're pathetic girls, we don't know what the hell we should do, so we searched for people, and we stumbled across a bar. And that's where we are now."

"Which bar? Are you still in Illinois?"

"No. We're in Ohio. In some small, nearly deserted town. We should have stayed on the main road, but we didn't, because we wanted a view. So we took a bunch of different roads. And now we're lost."

I rubbed my hand over my face. "What's the condition of the car?"

"No idea. It was too dark to check."

I stood up and walked over to my closet. "I don't want you girls handling this by yourself. I'm on the next flight out. Which airport are you closest to?"

"Um, Toledo. I think."

I pulled a few shirts from their hangers and threw them onto the bed. "Is there a hotel you can stay at? Somewhere I can meet you?"

"I'll ask around."

I pulled out my black suitcase and folded my clothes inside. "Keep me updated. I'm going to call the airport and book my flight. I'll call you right back."

"You really don't have to come all the way over here, Dr. Cullen."

"Yes, I do. When my niece is involved, I'm involved."

I hung up and called the airport, and within minutes I arranged to be booked on the next flight from Chicago to Toledo. One way, a 55 minute flight. The last flight would leave shortly. In fact, they should be boarding in half an hour, I'd have to hurry. At this rate, I'd be reunited with my niece and Bella within three hours, depending on their exact location.

I called Bella back, jotted down her location, and promised to be there as soon as possible.

I knew without doubt, this was going to have severe consequences.


	6. Bar and Motel

**Chapter Six – Bar and Motel**

I closed my cell phone for the final time and securely placed it inside my purse. The lights inside the bar were dimmed and the air was smoky so I waved a hand in front of my face and coughed once.

I caught the attention of a man with long gray hair and an equally long beard sitting at a table, a cigar between his fingers. His beady eyes rose up to mine, and we stared at each for a moment, and then he raised his hand towards me, offering me a puff.

I pressed my lips together in a tight line and shook my head.

He shrugged and placed the cigar between his thin lips, looking away from me.

"Bella!" Alice waved me over from the bar, standing next to the blonde cowboy.

I hurried towards her. "We should leave before I convince myself I have emphysema and your uncle officially dubs me as a hypochondriac."

She ignored me, slightly twisting her upper body towards her new friend. "Bella Swan, this is Jasper." She snapped her fingers. "Jasper, um, Jasper White…head?" She looked at him questioningly.

"Whitlock," he corrected, and then turned to me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella." He stretched his hand out.

I tried to be sneaky as I ran my eyes over his hand, searching for a sign it might be unsanitary. I accepted the hand anyway. "Yeah, you too." My eyes darted to Alice. "Edward's coming."

Alice looked at Jasper. "Edward is my uncle."

"And brother," I supplied.

She gave me a quick sideway glance before shifting her eyes back to him. "No incest."

"So," I continued, "Edward is on his way and he wanted to know where to find us, so I gave him the address to the bar, but he said we should probably find out if there's a nearby hotel because he won't be able to meet us for at least two hours. Probably closer to three hours."

"There's a motel," Jasper said, "a couple miles West. I could drop ya'll off, if you'd like."

Alice smiled at him, and I could envision her heart going gushy and melting. "Aw, that's very-"

"No, I watch the news," I interrupted. "Serial killers look like normal people, and the smart ones are usually charming."

Alice gaped at me.

"I didn't mean that as an insult," I hurried to explain, not wanting to upset a potential axe murderer. "I have…trust issues. Big, messy, ugly trust issues." I pointed at Alice. "That's why I'm seeing her Edward." I shook my head. "Her uncle. Brother. Not both. They're the same person." Alice gave me a weird look. "Oh, I'm not _seeing_ him, like that. He's a psychologist. I'm his patient."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Alice finally spoke, "So, what's good to drink here?"

******

"Bella," Alice spoke loudly beside me, followed by an obnoxious giggle. "I had five!" She pointed at the empty glass on the bar. "Your turn!"

I shook my head. "Not a chance, chica. Someone has to remain sober and look after your ass. The moment you put the poison into your body, I became the chosen one."

Alice pouted at me. "You snooze, you lose."

"Dude," I laughed, "That's not…nevermind. You're trashed. Your uncle…brother…whatever…is going to be so pleased when he sees your current state."

She leaned close to me, her warm breath blew on the side of my face. "We'll be a secret," she hissed into my ear.

"Yeah, that made sense." My eyes drifted towards the bartender. "Don't give her anything else except water. I'm already going to get slaughtered when Edward arrives."

Alice stared at me with big, wide eyes and squeezed her legs together.

"Something wrong?" I asked, staring back.

She slowly nodded and covered the side of her mouth with her hand. "I have to pee," she whispered.

I rolled my eyes and pushed myself up, grabbing her arm and dragging her behind me.

She clutched onto my arm and pressed her forehead against my cheek. "You're really pretty."

"Not going to work. I only put out when dinner is involved."

She giggled. "I don't wanna sex you up! You're a girl!"

I looked down, at my small breasts. "Since when?"

She poked the tip of my nose and giggled. "Honk."

"Ah. One of _those_ drunks." I pushed the restroom door open and led Alice toward a stall. "This is as far as I go, milady. You do your business on your own."

Alice saluted and ventured to her final destination all by herself. I turned towards the mirror above the sink and fixed my hair. I swept my bangs to the side and twisted the rest into a messy knot the top of my head. I wasn't concerned about looking attractive, and besides, I was still wary of the men in the bar, and the more unattractive I appeared, the less likely they'd want to abduct us.

A sing-song voice came from the stall, "Tinkle, tinkle, itsy bitsy spider. How I wonder…up the spout." She switched to humming.

"Very creative." I turned toward the stalls. "Almost done?"

Thirty minutes later, we were seated at a table. Alice slouched in the chair and laid her head down on the table, half a glass of water lay near her elbow.

"Tired?" I asked.

She nodded. "Mmhmm."

I pulled out my phone and checked the time. "Edward will probably be here soon. He said he'd call the moment his plane lands but I think it should've landed awhile ago."

"Where's Jasper?" Alice mumbled.

I glanced over at him. "Sitting at the bar, drinking. Still."

"I got his number." She smiled.

"Where is he from?" I took a sip of my water, my phone still clutched in one hand.

"Texas, but he lives here now." She lifted her head up and peered over at him. "How big do you think he is?"

What a strange question. "I don't know. Probably 170 pounds." I shrugged.

Alice giggled uncontrollably. "No, how _big_?"

"What?" I was suddenly hit with the true meaning behind her question. "Oh! Oh, ew, no, Alice. Just…no."

"Don't you like guys?" She turned her drunken stare on me.

"Yeah," I answered quietly, becoming uncomfortable. "But I don't feel right discussing a…_you know_."

She laughed and laid her head back down. "It's not illegal to enjoy that aspect of a man."

"I know, but it's just…weird. I mean, I don't even know him."

"Would it be better to inquire about a man's equipment if you knew him?" She lifted her head back up. "Do you wonder about Edward?"

I cringed. "Ew, Alice, that's your uncle!"

She rolled her eyes. "_I_ don't think about him, but you might. I heard about a study conducted to determine how common attraction between psychologists and patients to each other are, and like ninety-five percent of the male psychologists admitted to being sexually attracted to a client or clients at one time or another. But the female percentage was less. The males were more attracted than the females, so actually, maybe he wonders what's hidden beneath _your _layers."

I tensed up. "Dr. Cullen doesn't see me that way. It's strictly professional, as he constantly reminds me."

"Yeah." She slammed her head back on the table. "He just jumped on a plane in the middle of the night for a woman he doesn't want to plunge into."

"Yes, actually, seeing as how he left for _you_."

"He could have paid for me to return by plane, or waited till morning," she argued.

"How would you have gotten to the airport? What would happen to your car? And something could easily happen to you if you were alone."

She raised her arm and gave me the 'you-talk-to-much' or the 'blah-blah-blah' hand gesture.

******

Alice snored lightly as I continuously flipped my phone open and slammed it shut, over and over again. It was getting late, and Dr. Cullen still hadn't called. I wondered if I should call him instead, but then I worried that he simply forgot to call and he was in a car right now, and his phone ringing would distract him, and he'd lose control of the vehicle and crash. I didn't want that to happen, so I flipped the phone open, flipped it shut, and repeated.

I heard footsteps and lifted my eyes up to see Jasper approach. He pulled out a chair, the legs scrapped against the wooden floor, and he sat down. "You sure I can't offer you ladies a ride?"

"He'll be here soon." I snapped the phone shut and placed it beside me on the table.

"The thing is," Jasper said, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck, "Riley closes the bar in an hour, and if your friend isn't here, you'll be waiting outside in the cold."

"He'll be here soon," I repeated firmly.

He appeared skeptical.

Behind Jasper, the door opened and a familiar man stepped inside. I let out a sigh of relief. "He's here." The surprise was evident in my voice.

Jasper turned and glanced at Edward.

Edward's eyes darted frantically around the room, until finally, they landed on me. The tension in his shoulders lessened and he walked over, though he slowed a bit when he noticed Jasper.

I stood up, and I had an odd urge to _hug_ him, but I restrained myself. "Dr. Cullen," I breathed. "I was so worried, you never called."

His copper hair was disheveled, more so than usual, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. He looked exhausted. He stood in front of me within an arms length. "Sorry I didn't call, my battery died." His eyes drifted to Alice. "Is she sleeping?"

I nodded. "It's been a…long night."

"Same here." He moved to Alice's side and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Alice?"

She continued snoring. If I were him, I would've shook her harder, but he did the sweetest thing ever, something Charlie used to do when I'd fall asleep in the car. He carefully lifted her in his arms, and she automatically snuggled against his chest, her head pressed underneath his chin. She looked just like a little girl.

Strange images appeared in my head, pictures of Edward holding his future child. He looked like he'd be a good dad. I didn't know why I was thinking about that, maybe because I had just compared him to Charlie.

"Bella," Edward whispered, trying not to wake Alice. "Do you have everything?"

I reached for my purse, cell phone and Alice's purse. "Everything that we brought inside the bar, but we still have our luggage in the car."

"I'm parked right out front." Alice stirred a little in his arms, but remained asleep. "Do you remember where you crashed?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's not too far from here."

Edward followed me outside, and I held open the backseat door to his rented car as he gently placed Alice inside and buckled her in. Her eyes opened and she mumbled something in a groggy voice.

Edward sniffed in her direction before turning his gaze on me. "Has she been drinking?"

Busted.

"Well, she _is_ 24 and capable of making her own decisions," I started to defend.

Edward chuckled. "I'm not reprimanding you." He moved back and shut the door. "She's never been good at holding her alcohol."

"I've noticed," I replied dryly. "She's a lightweight."

He looked down at me with curious eyes. "How about you?"

I shook my head. "Oh, I'm not a much of a drinker. I've never been drunk before, but I sure have been surrounded by them." I shrugged a shoulder. "Living in a shelter, you see tend to see a lot of that."

He looked worried now. "I know it's only been a few days since we last spoke, but have chosen an apartment yet?"

We walked to the front of the car, he opened the door for me and I slid in. "I did, but your niece said no."

He shut the door and slid into the driver's side. "Why did she disapprove?"

"Why _didn't_ she disapprove?" Edward started the car and glanced back, toward the direction Alice's car should be in. I pointed a finger back there. "The car is some ways back there."

Edward followed my instructions, Alice was awake but mostly remained silent.

"After this experience," I said, "I doubt I'll ever want a GPS."

Alice kicked the back of my seat.

"Why's that?" Edward asked.

"Because they're creepy. Lola reminds me of that GPS in some commercial. The one where the guy buys a necklace, and the GPS asks what's in the bag, and it locks the car doors so he can't escape and her voice goes all scary."

Edward pulled up to the hill where the car was smashed into the tree. He muttered something underneath his breath as he stared at it.

"I'll get the bags," I said, opening the door and stepped outside. The moment I shut the door, Edward's door opened and he followed me down the hill. He crouched down and tried to examine the damage. "I'll find a mechanic in the morning. From what I can tell, it doesn't look too bad, and we can probably head up to New York in the afternoon."

I reached inside the car for our luggage. "We? Are you coming with us?"

He nodded. "It was a bad idea to let Alice do this alone."

"She wasn't alone," I murmured. "But maybe it would've been better if she were. Maybe Lola only wanted to get at me."

"Bella," Edward said, voice serious. "Do you genuinely believe 'Lola' is alive?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, doc. I'm not that insane."

He nodded once. "Okay."

I clapped my hands together. "Now what?"

"I spotted a motel on my way over here," he said, heading back towards the car.

I followed him. Spending a night in a motel with my psychologist. I was certain that would definitely be breaking some rules.

******

"Oh, this is creepy, Craven."

Edward shut off the ignition after pulling into the nearly vacant parking lot outside of a motel taken straight out of a horror film. Not only was it pitch black out, but there was fog. Lots of it. And it was in a secluded area, perfect for chopping up bodies without the rest of the town hearing anything.

Alice leaned forward, between the driver and passenger seats. "We're going to die."

Edward, the only one acting like a grown up, gave us each a look before pulling on his car door handle and lowering a foot onto the asphalt.

"Careful," I said, "someone or something might grab your leg and pull you under."

Alice clapped her hand on my shoulder. "What's that story with the couple parking out in the woods, and the boyfriend leaves, and the girlfriend hears scratching on the car roof?"

"This so does not relate to that," I replied, twisting my body to face her, pressing my back against the dashboard. "This is more like the stories where teenagers, or sometimes a couple, stay the night in a motel or bed & breakfast, and a deranged serial killer slaughters them."

"Girls," Edward shook his head, tisking at us. "I'm going to check in. Doesn't look like it's crowded, I could probably get three rooms."

Alice and I shouted at the same time. "No!"

His eyes darted back and forth between us. "No?"

"We are not splitting up, that's what they want!" Alice whined, clutching her hand on the back of Edward's seat.

"But if we're all gathered together," I said, pointing a finger at nothing in particular, "they could close in on us and take the whole team out."

"Oh, my God," Alice whispered. "What should we do?"

"The best option would be not to stay here," I answered logically. "But Edward's clearly exhausted, and you're still a bit tipsy, and I, well, I don't drive. So we're stuck. That option is crossed off the list."

"You don't drive?" She tilted her head to the side curiously.

"Nuh-uh." I shrugged. "Don't even know how. Never owned a car in my life."

"Then how do you have a license?"

"State ID."

Her lips formed an 'o' shape. "So why don't you want to drive?"

Edward stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind him.

Both Alice and I watched him walk towards the building.

"I bet the people outside of the motels usually die first," I stated in a matter-of-fact way.

Immediately, we both reached for our doors and jumped out of the car, running to catch up with Edward. Our feet pounded against the ground, causing Edward to glance back. Alice walked along one side of Edward, and I stayed on the opposite side.

I hugged my arms to my chest, my eyes carefully sweeping over every inch of the motel. "Rule number one, stick together. If someone breaks apart from the group, the other two remain by each others side."

Edward raised an eyebrow at me.

"I think we should have checked to make sure we had cell reception first," Alice whispered.

Edward raised an eyebrow at Alice.

Quickly, I pulled out my cell phone. Two bars. "We're good."

Edward pulled open the glass door to the office/check-in area, holding it open for us lovely ladies. Alice stepped inside first, followed by me and then Edward. It looked normal. No screams in the background, no ominous music, no visible blood stains, and there certainly wasn't a suspicious motel manager standing behind the counter. It was a woman in her mid-twenties with platinum blonde hair and honey brown eyes.

Edward smiled politely as she greeted us.

"How many rooms?" She seemed sweet, no hidden murderous intentions lurking beneath the deep souls of her eyes.

Edward looked down at us in question.

"One," we replied.

The blonde looked a bit taken back by our answer. She probably suspected a late night threesome to occur between us. That would never happen, because first of all, Edward and Alice were related, and Edward was my psychologist, and Alice lacked a certain organ I preferred on my mates.

"You don't happen to have a room with three beds, do you?" Edward joked.

The blonde laughed. "No, sir, sorry, we don't. We do have two queen sized beds, or one king sized."

"Two queen sized beds should be fine," Edward said, pulling out his wallet.

I wondered how that'd work. Would Edward and Alice share a bed because they already shared DNA? Would the girls sleep together? Would two of us each get our own bed and the other gets the floor? Would Edward and I share a bed? Normally, that thought probably would've made me giggle, but instead, my body did something weird. I felt the blood course down _there_.

"Would you like two keys or one?" The blonde asked.

"One should be fine," Edward answered. "We're not going anywhere tonight."

She handed him a white key card, a sly smile on her face. "Enjoy."

I laughed on the inside. She totally thought we were all going to do it. I didn't want to correct her, she'd probably have a more interesting night with that imagination of hers running wild.

The three of us turned, stepped outside and walked towards our room. It was at the very end, a corner room.

Alice hooked her arm through mine as I came up with a conspiracy theory. "You know what's strange? This is probably the area we were in when Lola tried to drown us, and when we doubled back and reached this point again, she crashed us into a tree."

Alice gasped. "Do you think…?"

I nodded. "The town's in on it. They have some sort of weird magnetic thingy that screws up the navigators, or they just found a way to control them, and they trap foreigners because they have some small town secret."

"They want our firstborns!"

"Or," I said, taking a long pause for dramatic purposes, "they're nursing a murderous townie, and instead of setting the wild beast free or waiting around for him to kill his own people, they gather up strangers and use them as sacrifices."

Edward stepped up to our motel door, talking to me as he removed the key card from its little white envelope and stuck it inside the slot. "Do you write, Bella?" It beeped, the circular light lit green, and he opened the door.

"No." Alice and I stepped inside the room. "Why?"

Edward followed, shut the door and switched on the light. It was like every other motel or hotel room I'd ever seen. There were two beds side by side with a nightstand between them, a phone on top. The lamps were on the wall, one beside each bed, and a dresser was pressed up against the opposite wall with an old television on top. There was also a round table with four chairs; a mirror, counter and sink beside the door leading to the bathroom.

"You seem to enjoy telling stories," Edward answered, placing the key-card on the table.

I shrugged a shoulder and sat down on the edge of the closest bed. "Maybe something _did _cause Lola to go all spazzy. And anyway, weird stuff pops inside my head all the time. The reason for it is simple, I'm just a strange gal."

"Or an imaginative one." He turned back towards the door. "I'm going to get our bags, I'll be back, and in the meantime, why don't you two figure this arrangement out?" He opened the door and stepped outside.

Alice literally threw herself on top of the bed, her body lay across the side and her head was beside my thighs as she peeked up at me. "He likes you."

"He has to pretend to," I corrected. "He's my psychologist. Psychologists are supposed to make you feel safe and comfortable."

"Name one non-sleazy psychologist that has rescued his patient and booked them a room?"

"You're purposefully leaving out a lot of necessary facts." I stood up, walking towards the mirror above the sink. "And aren't you supposed to be drunk?"

She flopped over onto her back and watched me wash my hands and face. "I'm not drunk."

"Well, you were a couple hours ago, your brain probably still all fuzzy."

"Nope, and I wasn't drunk then, either. Just buzzed."

I turned and looked at her with my head lowered and my eyebrows raised high on my forehead. "You were totally drunk. Buzzed people don't sing mixed match nursery rhymes."

A knock came on the door. Alice and I stared at each other, not sure what to do.

"Did you check the vents for hidden cameras?" I whispered.

The knock came again. "Alice, it's me," came Dr. Cullen's muffled voice.

Alice rolled off the bed and opened the door for her uncle. He entered the room, carrying all of our bags, and placed them on the floor beside the table. Alice hurriedly unzipped her bag, pulled out a few things and clutched them to her chest.

"I'm taking a shower," she said. "I feel gross and stinky." She headed towards the bathroom, passing me along the way.

Now that Dr. Cullen and I were alone in the room, the true awkwardness of the situation crept up on us. This wasn't normal. We shouldn't be in a room together, especially not in a motel room.

I nervously wrung my hands together. Dr. Cullen sat down in a chair, leaned forehead and ran his fingers through his hair, looking distressed. "Sit down, please," he said, not looking at me. "We need to talk."

With my heart beating faster than normal, I moved to the bed and sat down, facing him.

"My career is in jeopardy," he started. He cringed and shook his head. "I shouldn't have said it like that. It isn't your fault or because of anything you did, but if I continue down this road I'm not going to be licensed psychologist much longer."

"What's going on?" I asked, concerned.

He lifted his head up, looking into my eyes. "I'm honest with my patients, all of them. You and I, we can't continue our current way of handling your treatment. It's blurring the lines between professional and personal, and that's not the way I work. I've already consulted a colleague about transferring you to another psychologist, so-"

"What?" I jumped up. "Transfer me? What the hell does that mean? You don't want to see me anymore?"

He stood up as well. "Bella, we're-"

"Nothing has happened!" I moved way from him, beginning to pace around the room. "Okay, so I'm becoming friends with your niece and we're sleeping in the same room tonight, but you're the one who promised me twenty sessions to properly evaluate me. You can't just take that all back."

"Bella, I haven't officially decided which route to take, which is why I am trying to have this conversation with you, so we can appropriately discuss our options."

I took a deep breath and moved back to the bed, sitting once again. He followed my lead and sat down in the chair.

I folded my hands in my lap. "Fine. Let's talk, then. To save you some time and energy, I'm going to say this, if you do decide to get rid of me, I'm not going to another psychologist. I'll be done. This was a one time deal. If you walk away now, I'm staying away from all other shrinks."

He clenched his jaw and sighed. "Bella, you need-"

"No," I interrupted. "I don't need anything. Maybe I am mentally ill, okay? Maybe I'm a hypochondriac. Or maybe I'm a very sick girl with a brain tumor who is disoriented and weird because of its position. If my mental diagnosis were serious, you'd probably have an idea by now, 'cause let me tell you, while I do occasionally pretend to be tougher than I am, I can't mask everything about myself. I'm not an actress, or at least not a very good one.

"The one thing I want out of this whole situation with you is to have just one more brain scan. It is so easy to miss a brain tumor, especially if it's small or they needed different equipment to spot it. Just one more scan, and I promise, if everything comes back clean and normal, I will stop saying I'm sick. I will accept it and live my life, but you made me a promise, and you have to honor that because I want your offer."

Dr. Cullen considered what I said in silence. He leaned back in the chair and looked off in to space, clearly thinking hard. "I am a man of my word, Miss Swan. You're correct, I did offer you a deal, and I'm willing to keep my promise, but things would have to change."

"I can keep my distance," I said firmly. "I won't ask you about your personal life anymore, and I'll do whatever you ask, whatever you want to talk about. And this weekend, it'll be a one time thing, okay? Come Monday, we can start our new rules, but I just want to be normal for once. Please? I never get to go on trips with friends and have fun, and I know this was never supposed to be a social event, but I like feeling this way. Normal. So can we just be…friends this weekend, and then go back to the whole professional thing?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"I really won't ask you anything about your life. We'll just go on this journey together, and maybe we won't even talk. We can use Alice as the messenger. No one here knows us, they don't know I'm your patient. They're not going to report you, and you're not doing anything inappropriate. I assure you."

"Bella," he said with a regretful sigh. "This isn't about anyone catching us, it's about morals and your state of mind when we're together. You can't rely on me to help you if you feel betrayed in any way."

I shook my head. "I don't feel betrayed. Well, I would if you walk away now. But talking to you during our outside sessions, and how you came all the way over here to help us out, it doesn't make me feel I'm being taken advantage of, like you seem to think. It actually opened me up to you. I trust you more, I'm more reliant on you. It proves you're a good man and you love your job and genuinely care about your patients. Maybe certain doctors shouldn't have an outside relationship with their patients, but this isn't harmful to me. It's helping. It really is."

"That's another issue," he began, "if you become attached-"

"I'm not," I assured. "Yes, I like talking to you. But I won't go suicidal when our sessions end. I'm not misreading anything, I promise." I stuck my hand out towards him. "Stay with me? Be my psychologist?"

He was hesitant, but eventually shook my hand. "I'm not guaranteeing anything, but if this weekend goes well and we both agree it'll have no effect on our remaining weeks together as doctor and patient, I'll grant you my official word."

"Thank you."

We could do this. We could have a normal weekend together. It wouldn't disrupt our professional relationship. Everything would be fine.


End file.
